


Flyover States

by Heathlily33



Category: Carol (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Romance, F/F, Friendship, Los Angeles, Loss, Moving On, Music, New York City, Places in Between, Road Trips, obviously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2020-07-20 00:43:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19983232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heathlily33/pseuds/Heathlily33
Summary: Carol wasn’t mad at Jack for bailing on driving from Los Angeles to Buffalo with her two weeks before they were set to depart. Jack had gone above and beyond, not wanting Carol to cancel the plans she’d made for their trip, somehow procuring a replacement for himself within five days.Sort of.If she was normal enough, Carol would happily drag thisThereseperson across the United States with her. The backup was flying, and shipping her car, but Carol needed this. Time away from everybody, away from people she knew. Plus, aside from living in Chicago and weekend excursions to Las Vegas, she hadn’t visited any of the United Flyover States of America. Why not do that while she had the time? Discover just how little she was missing.





	1. Los Angeles Pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Malibu" - Hole

_Of course_ she should have left earlier. That was always the case. Punctuality hadn’t exactly been one of her specialities at any point in her life, but in the four years since moving to Los Angeles her time management had gotten considerably worse. It was the traffic - she just couldn’t get it down. And when her company’s offices moved from Downtown LA to Brentwood, well, that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Carol wanted _out._

The transfer couldn’t happen immediately, not for another six months. In six months, Stanley in the New York headquarters would retire, Tessie in Toronto would take his place, Abby would (probably) get Tessie’s position, and then there would be a spot in Toronto for Carol. That was the plan, at least. And in the interim between leaving Los Angeles and moving to Toronto, Carol was allowed to work from home. 

If she could ever get home. 

Home was not her apartment in Silver Lake - no, that was a house. A dwelling. A literal place to live and store her things. Home was Buffalo, even if it hadn’t ever felt quite right. 

And that was the whole point of this meeting. “Meeting,” rather. Meeting in the sense that she was _meeting_ Jack’s coworker Therese. Coworker - not friend, he’d stressed. They worked in different departments and he didn’t know her all that well, but she “seems cool.”

Carol wasn’t mad at Jack for bailing on driving with her from Los Angeles to Buffalo two weeks before they were set to depart. She couldn’t be. How was he supposed to know his brother-in-law would come down with a case of _prostate cancer_ at the most inconvenient of times for Carol? She wasn’t mad, just sorry for herself and feeling guilty for feeling that way. Jack had gone above and beyond, too, not wanting Carol to cancel the plans she’d made for their trip, somehow procuring a replacement for himself within five days. 

Sort of. 

If she was normal enough, Carol would happily drag this _Therese_ person across the United States with her. The backup was flying, obviously, and shipping her car, but Carol needed this. Time away from everybody, away from people she knew. Time to (mostly) herself. Plus, aside from living in Chicago and weekend excursions to Las Vegas, she hadn’t visited any of the United Flyover States of America. Why not do that while she had the time? Discover just how little she was missing.

First she’d need to make it to Bricks and Scones. But now she was stuck on Santa Monica Boulevard, going nowhere, because she’d made the stupid decision to take Santa Monica and not Olympic. 

It wasn’t particularly hot - May in Los Angeles never was - but it felt hot in her car because she was frustrated and nervous. Nervous that the whole ordeal could be weird and uncomfortable. And she was late. 

The music she was listening to stopped abruptly when the ring of an incoming call blared through her speakers. The number that flashed across her car’s touch screen was one she didn’t recognize. Then it clicked. _Therese. Duh._

Just hours before, Carol had first been made aware of and subsequently introduced to Therese via a group text with Jack. Only the basics were covered: Therese was moving to New York City in three weeks (but she could do sooner), had planned to fly, but was hesitant because she had a dog. In an effort to try and be sure they didn’t hate one another, and to see if everything would work out logistically, they’d agreed to meet up later that day. 

Carol accepted the call, hoping Therese wasn’t annoying enough as to already be inquiring of her whereabouts. “Hello?”

“Hey Carol, it’s Therese.”

Maybe Therese had just called to tell her she’d arrived. It was only 6:36, after all. But Carol quickly covered her bases. “Hi Therese. I’m so sorry, I’m running late - I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.”

“Oh, that’s good, actually. I was calling to tell you that _I’m_ running late.” That was a pleasant surprise. “You might beat me there, in fact.”

It was new and welcome territory for Carol. 

“In that case, I’m not running late. I’m here already and I have been this whole time.”

Therese had a cute laugh. 

Before they hung up, they realized they didn’t know what the other looked like. Therese said she’d meant to have Jack show her Carol’s Instagram, to have a clue as to whom she was looking for, but never got the chance. 

“Blonde hair, I’m wearing like a black long sleeved v-neck.”

There was a slight pause before Therese replied. “That sounds like everybody in LA but I’ll do my best. See you soon.”

At least she was concise. Carol hated unnecessary chatter. It imposed on her already often-wasted time. Wasted further by the asshole in the white Range Rover who cut her off turning onto Fairfax. 

And it wasn’t like parking was any easier. Two blocks from Larchmont, she found what appeared to be a safe place, but when Carol thought that, she more often than not came back to her car with a ticket. But she was late and unsure if she could find anything better that was a reasonable distance away.

As she approached the coffee shop, she took out her phone. She wasn’t sure if she was really looking at it because she thought she might’ve gotten a text or if she was just trying to look busy while she walked down the sidewalk. It probably would’ve been smart to ask Therese what she looked like too, so that could’ve kept her looking busy and not pretending to have a myriad of pressing messages and emails.

“Carol!”

Well, Carol gave herself points for describing herself accurately. 

Obviously, the woman standing at the patio’s entrance was Therese. And points to fucking _Jack_ for recruiting who was, no doubt, his hottest coworker to potentially hang out with Carol for a week or so. 

Her handshake was nice, too. It could’ve been stronger, but Carol’s was strong to the point of forcefulness - she might’ve not been the easiest judge. 

Five minutes later they settled at a table on the patio, and even under the umbrella Carol still kept her sunglasses on. She found it easier to talk when people couldn’t see her eyes. Perceived rudeness, be damned. 

“So Therese, what’s the deal? Why are you moving and why are you not flying?”

There was no point in beating around the bush. Small talk for small talk’s sake bored Carol to death. And Therese didn’t seem to take issue.

“Well, as you’ve heard, I have a dog - ”

“What kind?”

Therese pulled out her phone and found a picture while answering. “A French bulldog. His name is Lenny. _Not_ after Lenny Kravitz. After Lenny Bruce. I didn’t name him though.”

Taking Therese’s phone from her hands, Carol scrolled through photos of Lenny. She’d always wanted a dog. Or even a cat. But her ex had been allergic to both. “If you don’t come, I’ll happily drive your dog and then keep him. He’s okay in cars?”

Apparently Lenny’s former caretaker prior to Therese was a truck driver, so he was better than okay on long drives. Carol wanted to iron out the specifics, to be certain that Therese could join her on this drive, because Carol had to be out of her apartment by June 1st.

“That could work for me. I planned on my last ‘official’ day at work being Thursday the 6th, but I’m ahead of schedule with my deadlines. As long as I finish up this project I’m working on before we leave, my manager won’t care. What’s she going to do anyway? Fire me?” 

Carol already appreciated Therese’s flexibility. If she was always that agreeable, it would make things a lot easier. And she understood when Therese explained her wariness of putting her dog on a plane or, alternatively, making the drive alone. The latter was the same reason Carol had met up with Therese in the first place. 

“Anyway, new job. That’s why I’m moving. To answer your second question.” Therese smiled and Carol took note of her dimples that turned her from hot to cute. She was naturally very attractive. 

Leaning forward with her arms resting on the table, Carol decided to pry. “They don’t have new jobs in Los Angeles?”

Therese giggled and rolled her eyes. “I hate LA. I’ve been here three years. I’m done.”

That sealed the deal. Carol decided she liked Therese for more than just her looks. “God, I couldn’t agree more. Can’t stand it here.”

Finally, someone who was just willing to admit it. They both agreed, it all seemed great on paper, but then the summers were oppressively hot, the driving was too much, and the people. 

“Everyone is always complaining about ‘not being able to meet anyone’ here. Frankly, I don’t want to anymore.” Not that Carol had spent much time looking, given she’d been in a relationship for most of her time there. “Plus, if I meet someone and it turns out they live on the west side, or - god fucking forbid - _the valley._ Dealbreaker.”

“Right? Don’t try and sell me on how North Hollywood is cool. Maybe it is, but I’m not sitting on the 101 for an hour just to meet you at, like, The Federal.”

Therese was funny and now they were both laughing. It was probably the best time that Carol had had in months. They could’ve gone back to talking about the drive: when exactly they’d leave, the route Carol planned to take (maybe she could bend a bit, if Therese wanted), if Therese needed to put anything in Carol’s car. Instead, Carol preferred to dig. 

“I take it you’re single then? Not leaving a boyfriend behind?” Carol asked, though Therese could’ve been going back to one in New York, she supposed.

The straw from her drink dangled from between her teeth and Therese sighed. “It would be a girlfriend, and no, not leaving anyone behind.”

That was interesting information. But Carol couldn’t feel satisfied by it because she was busy feeling like an idiot. She’d just assumed Therese was straight for no reason and Carol herself couldn’t stand when people did the same with her. 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed - ”

Therese shook her head and interrupted. “Totally fine. Most people just - ”

“No, but I _really_ shouldn’t assume because _I’m_ gay.”

And there was of course the _oh_ of both surprise and understanding. Another apology. Carol finally restarted the conversation. “Well, thank god. I was a little afraid I’d have to spend a week feigning interest as you droned on about guys.”

“Definitely not.” Therese assured her. 

The next, natural movement to the conversation was for Therese to ask Carol about her own relationship situation - which she did. It was a lot to unpack, too much for right then and there, so she tried to skirt around the issue, but made the mistake of adding an unsure, “well…” before saying, “no.”

Unsurprisingly, it didn’t get past Therese. “That was a loaded ‘well.’” 

Carol groaned. She couldn’t blame Therese. She’d set herself up for it. “It’s nothing. My ex is just a little…angry about our breakup. Five months later. It’s been the bane of my existence, honestly.”

“Ah, so that’s why you’re leaving LA.”

Only somewhat true, Carol shook her head. “It’s one reason on a very, _very_ long list.”

There was a pause in their back-and-forth as Therese seemed to ponder the information. The question of whether she’d change the subject or keep the current topic going was answered when she asked, “five months later and she’s still at it? How long were you two together?”

“Five years.” Carol winced. It sounded bad. It _was_ bad, though she was the only one who knew the extent.

“Five _years?_ ” Therese looked bewildered and Carol just nodded. “Why did you break up?”

There were many explanations, but Carol stuck to the basics. She put it simply: she didn’t love Genevieve and maybe never had. She thought she did when they first started dating, but Genevieve was her first girlfriend after a series of _boy_ friends (another “ _oh_ ”) and Carol might’ve mistaken loving the idea of a Genevieve for actually loving Genevieve. 

Without a thought, Carol reached into her bag for her vape pen. She drew from it and breathed out her nose, only noticing then what she was doing. “I feel like a Pavlovian dog. Every time Genny comes up I just,” she hit her vape again. “I didn’t even smoke cigarettes before. I have no clue why I do this now.”

Pulling out her own vape, Therese promised Carol it was okay. “So if you two were together for five years that means you moved here with her?”

Affirmative. Carol stared out onto Larchmont through her sunglasses. “We did. I wound up getting a job here and she’s an actress, so it worked out.”

There was the completely reasonable question of was Genevieve an actress or was she an “actress?” Up until about two years ago, she was an “actress,” but then her career started picking up, and it had gotten especially good in the past year - Carol had figured with Genevieve finally finding stability and community in her own life, she could end things with her and they’d be less devastating, she could leave relatively unscathed.

Therese smiled at Carol, something of an acknowledgement. “Not the case?”

“Not the case. At all.”

“If she’s an actress, would I know her from anything?”

It was more than likely. And Carol Googled “Genevieve Cantrell,” then handed Therese the phone. The shock and awe, it was a very new development. Like Carol had said, Genevieve had a pretty good year. Well, career-wise, at least. Personally, a far different story. 

“I can’t believe that’s your ex-girlfriend. She was in - ”

“Uh huh.” 

“And - ”

“Yes. All of it. Like three movies this year. You’d think she would be less of a codependent with her own career flourishing and all. But - ”

“Not the case.” Therese finished Carol’s sentence using her earlier words and Carol could only smile weakly back. She wanted to get off the subject and felt herself fidgeting because of it. Thinking about the entire ordeal still made her feel like an asshole.

As if reading her mind, Therese quickly handed Carol her phone back. They sat in a silence that didn’t need to be filled for a moment while Carol closed the tab on her phone. “So are we getting the fuck out of LA or what?”

Therese smiled again as she brought her gaze from the table of people to her left back onto Carol. “Yes.”

More short term, though, they needed to get the fuck out of the patio of the coffee shop. Both forgot that some places - specifically places that didn’t serve alcohol - closed before 2am. It had been getting chilly with the setting sun, anyway. When 68 degrees had become chilly to Carol, she wasn’t sure, but she regretted not bringing her North Face as Therese walked with her back to her car. Carol told her she didn’t have to, but Therese was curious to see if she’d gotten a parking ticket, too. 

“I have a trick,” Carol usually didn’t share her secrets so willingly, but if she was going to spend close personal time with Therese soon, she figured she might as well get used to it. “When I’m on the fence about whether I parked within the parking restrictions or not, I put an old ticket that I keep in my glove compartment on my windshield hoping that _maybe_ they’ll think they’ve already given me a ticket.”

Seemingly floored, Therese asked, “does that work?”

Carol shrugged. “Not sure. I’ve never been ticketed when I’ve done it, but that could be for reasons of legal parking.”

Even with her sunglasses on, Carol could tell Therese’s smile was real, one that reached her eyes. It was the dimples. A weird part of Carol wanted to poke her pointer fingers into them and twist. But she didn’t, of-fucking-course. That would be psychotic. Instead, she thanked Therese for meeting with her, for walking with her to her car, and asked if she had time to talk more tomorrow, to flesh out the details of this bizarre trip they were so suddenly taking together. 

“I work from home all day, so I’ll be available whenever.” Therese was still smiling and Carol found herself looking away. 

“Great, so do I. I guess I’ll just give you a call whenever.”

——

Since breaking up with Genevieve, Carol’s routine hadn’t changed much. Once she’d moved out of their place in Los Feliz, Carol remembered how much she hated living alone. It was boring and she didn’t have enough friends to fill all of her free time. She might’ve, if she wasn’t in Los Angeles, but most of her friends in LA were ones she’d shared with Genevieve, and even though they didn’t take sides when Carol ended things, as a sort of peace-offering, she encouraged them to at least appear to have allegiance to Genny. Carol had initiated the break-up, after all. She’d caused the damage, the hurt, the apparent “life-ruining,” according to Genny. It was her fault and on more nights than not, Genny found a way to let her know. 

After parting ways with Therese, she went on a run, answered some work emails, stared into her fridge - willing something to appear in front of her that didn’t need cooking - returned to her laptop, answered a video chat from Abby, was scolded for not having started packing, hung up, went back to the fridge, stared. She’d make salad. It was probably best to start getting rid of whatever food she had around. There was a three-quarters empty bottle of Pinot Noir sitting on her counter and Carol had to have a real debate with herself as to whether she wanted to finish it or not. It might just make her sad that she didn’t have more than one glass and, even though her preferred wine store was both within walking distance and still open, she knew she had no plans to leave her apartment until the next day. 

She poured the wine and chopped up every vegetable in her fridge. 

Carol had slowly drank all of the liquor she had brought from Genny’s condo to the apartment she was subletting when she’d moved out over four months ago, and once she finished each bottle bit-by-bit, she decided not to restock anything - because she was moving. And now she felt she was paying the price. 

It wasn’t quite that Carol was lonely - no, that wasn’t it - but she was bored. She liked time to herself, sure, but only so much. It felt like it had been an entire five months of solitary confinement - work, home, workout, dinner, sleep, repeat. A month ago, she’d made the mistake of thinking that Genny and her could be the friends Carol had promised they’d remain, and she’d asked her to hang out in a moment of desperation. A mistake, obviously. She’d learned that within two minutes of being in her presence. Apparently four months was not adequate time apart, and Genny was crying and begging Carol to “work things out” after a half hour of meeting. In public, no less. She was lucky she wasn’t more famous. 

If only she’d had a friend like Therese all these months. Years, even. Like Carol, she didn’t belong in Los Angeles. It didn’t suit either of them. Carol was far too pale and Therese was too silently beautiful. She had a face with sharp lines, but somehow still soft, and she didn’t need assistance to look striking. Carol had noticed it right away. That, and her demeanor, as if she had found a quality in Carol that she wasn’t used to finding, and everything they shared felt like a secret that nobody else could possibly understand. That might have been a dramatic analysis of the situation, Carol thought. A romanticized version of two people bonding over their mutual eagerness to leave it all behind. 

Carol wondered what Therese did with the rest of her evening. She seemed younger. Carol had forgotten to ask. Probably went out with her friends in West Hollywood, considering she worked from home the next day. Though, so did Carol, and it wasn’t as if she was _old_ \- she was thirty-three, for fucksake - still an age that could pass as “early thirties,” yet, her nights were filled with next to nothing. 

Inspired by nothing in particular, Carol grabbed her phone and typed out a text. Reading it over no less than six times, she still hesitated before pressing send, unable to pinpoint why she was acting so cautious. Finally, she tapped the screen and sent the message. 

_Hey, it’s Carol. So, since you work from home tomorrow too, want to come “work from home” at my place instead and we can do a little more planning?_

Waiting for a reply was too stressful, though Carol told herself she put her phone on silent and tossed it aside because it didn’t matter - she didn’t care how Therese responded. If she responded. But, silence didn’t mean she didn’t notice the sound of her phone’s vibration on the dining room table. 

_Yes_

The three grey dots indicated there were more messages to come, but Carol had already gotten the answer she didn’t realize she was dying to hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because my most recent work is coming to a close in the next couple weeks, I figured I post the first chapter to my next one, because I've had it written for ages so why not? Also, I _know_ I have another ongoing work still to finish. I _know_. Haven't forgotten.
> 
> Anyway, here's this. It'll be updated when my other work, Hope You Will, is complete.
> 
> One more tidbit, just a point of interest possibly: this is my most personal story yet! Not that I'm about to make sweeping mischaracterizations, and not that I'll ever say specifically what or why (unless asked lol), but I'm excited to write this. Hope you all enjoy.
> 
> For the record, I don’t hate LA all that much. It’s complicated.


	2. Los Angeles Pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Wolf Like Me" - TV on the Radio

They’d decided on hiking to the Griffith Park Observatory. It won out over Runyan. Parking was a major factor, along with less crowds and the option to continue their hike further should they feel so inspired. Carol told Therese that she could bring Lenny if she wanted, but Therese left him at home. 

“He already went on two walks today and, honestly, that’s more than he can handle. An incline might literally kill him.”

When Carol texted Therese earlier that day, following up on her text from the previous night suggesting that Therese come and hang out, Therese was quick to make sure they were on the same page, clarifying that “working from home” would involve minimal work. As if Carol could get any real work done with another person around, let alone Therese. They had better things to do together, anyway, bigger plans. 

She wanted to get out of the house at some point, too, and in lieu of proposing the idea of a run - not everybody’s cup of tea - she brought up hiking, because _everybody_ in LA had to like hiking, and if they didn’t, they pretended. But Therese seemed genuinely on-board, which was a relief, because, though she hadn’t mentioned it yet, Carol was hoping to do some trekking around Utah or Colorado. 

As the day crept closer and closer to 4pm, Carol realized that, even though she’d been working - truly, she did get work done - and ticking off boxes on her personal to-do list, she’d mostly been waiting for Therese get there. She chalked it up to a severe lack of friendship, as of late. There was always Jack, but Jack liked to go out, like _out-out,_ more nights than not and those nights usually ended with him ditching Carol for some guy he met. And it wasn’t like Carol’s mutual friends she shared with Genny were unavailable, but it was sometimes hard to be totally honest with them, considering the circumstances. 

After putting on leggings and a sports bra - the expensive, cute kind that were only partly meant to be used for exercise, but mostly designed to give the appearance of sportiness while doing absolutely anything else - Carol checked the weather to determine whether or not she needed to wear more clothing overtop. Definitely necessary. She was slipping on a sweatshirt when Therese called.

“Hey, are you here?”

“I mean, I think so?” Therese paused and Carol began to make her way out the door. “I‘m standing outside of a light blue building.”

“That’s the one. Stay put. Also, I should’ve mentioned there’s guest parking. Sorry about that.”

For whatever reason, Carol stayed on the phone as she walked through the courtyard and to the front entrance.

Therese did, too. “It’s fine, I found a spot super close. This place is pretty big. Do you have a pool?”

Carol hung up and opened door, finding Therese on the sidewalk. “Yes, but I’ve never used it.”

Instead of a proper greeting, Therese just called Carol “insane,” and Carol thought she liked that better anyway. 

While they walked back to her unit, Carol’s sweatshirt must’ve caught Therese’s eye, because she asked, “did _you_ go to RISD, too?”

She had, for interior design. Well, interior architecture if they were getting into semantics. But they weren’t, because Therese asked what year she graduated. 

“Long before you. We didn’t overlap, trust me.” But Therese was still waiting, and maybe slightly dejected, so Carol sighed and said, “2007.”

Therese didn’t have much to say and just smirked as she looked away. “No overlap.”

Just as Carol suspected, Therese was a handful of years younger, maybe a couple of handfuls. She let Therese put her bag down, one that must’ve contained her laptop, and Carol appreciated someone who could sustain the guise of doing what they were supposed to be doing - like working - all while knowing full well that it wouldn’t be happening. Like they were being spied on and needed proof that they had, in fact, “planned” to work. 

Of course, they hadn’t. Once Therese ditched her belongings in Carol’s entryway, they went straight to Carol’s car and left for Griffith Park. Though the silence wasn’t uncomfortable, Carol longed to fill it. Therese was nice to listen to - soft spoken, almost hesitant, yet excitable, but then again, much of that could’ve been attributed to shyness from them having just met. Carol was curious to find out what Therese was like when she wasn’t so nice, what made her tick, and she figured she’d find out eventually. For that to happen, though, Carol needed Therese to relax a bit. 

“Are you from New York?” She decided it was as good a start as any. 

“Not really.” 

Then Therese just stopped, and stared out the window. That was her answer, apparently. 

“What the fuck does that mean?” 

Unfazed by Carol’s annoyance, her pushiness, Therese laughed and looked over. “Sorry, I really didn’t mean for that to sound so cryptic. I’m not from New York originally, but I moved there for a bit in high school. I moved to Pittsburgh after that though. Before college.”

Contrarily, Carol had lived in one house for almost her entire childhood. There were the first three years she didn’t really remember that were spent in Ontario, but then she grew up in one house, in the suburbs of Buffalo, until she left for college. At the time, she resented the lack of change, wanting so badly to leave for anywhere else, constantly bored, but now she kept that to herself. As an adult, she knew that - more often than not - moving around as an adolescent wasn’t a great time. 

“Why?” She turned onto Franklin and rattled off guesses of Therese’s answer in her head: military family, dad’s job (it was always dad’s, never mom’s), parents’ divorce…

“My mom was just, like, kind of crazy.” Therese shrugged and Carol wasn’t sure if she should regret having asked. “She couldn’t keep a job and always had to move to be near various relatives when everyone eventually got sick of her.”

“Oh.” She wanted to look at Therese, to get a read of things, but she needed to pay attention to the road. “How’s she doing now?”

“Well, she’s dead, so…” 

Thankfully they were stopped at a light, because now Carol had to look at Therese. She was almost ready to be mad at her for letting her walk right into that question, but she was the one who’d asked, and Therese was just being honest. 

“I am _so_ sorry. For that and for prying. That’s awful.” 

And because Therese was so kind, she smiled, and assured Carol that it was fine, she didn’t mind her asking and it had happened a long time ago. Plenty of time had passed. But Carol considered that Therese was just being polite, because even if it had been ten years, that type of pain didn’t really go away. At least, that’s what she thought. Both of her parents were very much alive. 

“God, I’m a little afraid to ask now, but your dad?”

“Oh, he’s alive.” Therese’s reply allowed Carol to let go of the breath she’d been holding, but then she added, “I mean, at least I assume he is. I haven’t heard otherwise but I don’t know how I’d find out, really.”

Striking out again, Carol wondered if asking Therese any more personal questions was a good idea. But they’d arrived at their destination, and Carol needed to fill the time with something. Possibly sensing her nerves, Therese laid out a path for her. 

“I have a brother. Half-brother. He’s alive _and_ I know him.” She grinned at Carol, because she was some sort of saint for being able to find humor in the situation. “I met him when my mom died. He grew up with his dad in Iowa.”

Carol asked Therese if she’d ever been to Iowa because, speaking of, they might have to drive through it and she wondered what was there. As suspected, Therese didn’t have much to report. She wore a pained expression and mentioned, other than a trove of Republicans, it was mostly nothing. Oh, and there was a church made of seashells.

“That sounds dreadful.” Carol winced and dipped her arms to pet a dog passing by her side as they entered the trail. 

“It really is.”

Discussing Iowa put them on track to talk about where exactly they’d be going. It was a topic that was geared toward Carol providing the answers, and a week ago she thought she’d had very specific ones, but now she was suddenly more malleable. She did want to swing by San Francisco, though, just to visit her friend while it was still somewhat convenient, but after that she was open to ideas. 

“What about Zion? Or is that totally out of the way if we’re technically leaving from The Bay?”

It was definitely totally out of the way, but Carol found herself saying, “we could go to Zion.” And Therese’s smile _was_ pretty contagious. She hoped to god she was climbing out of the hole she’d dug herself into during the car ride. It was a good time for Therese to ask almost anything of Carol. They hiked - well, “hiked,” Griffith Park was still an urban park and it was more of walking up a very steep and gravelly hill - and went back and forth naming places they wanted to see, if they made sense to go to and, if not, how worthwhile it would be making a trip. Nowhere else in Utah besides Zion needed visiting, they both agreed, and Utah in general just freaked Carol out, the Mormons and everything. Colorado contained a list of stops and they’d have to make cuts. From there, they would need to get creative until reaching Chicago - not too much sounded appealing in between. 

On the lawn of the Observatory, looking up at the stark white building and the streams of people milling around, Carol thought of something. “Do you have a passport?”

“Yeah, why?”

“We could go to Toronto. My best friend lives there and it would beat the Pennsylvania Turnpike.”

Therese smiled and nodded and Carol stared for several seconds before pulling her eyes away and smiling herself. “Excellent.”

Solely for the purpose of feeling good about themselves, they hiked on for another half mile before turning around, deciding that it was enough to say they’d done more than the bare minimum. Unsurprisingly, their new conversation had its attention focused on Carol. It was only fair, she supposed, but Therese went right to the hard hitters. 

Curiosity about why her and Genny had ended things was nothing new. Their friends were confused, families shocked, and Genny herself, completely devastated. Carol didn’t want to cause any more harm, so she’d constantly repeated that things had simply “run their course.” Unsatisfying for Genny, sure, but partly the truth and good enough for everybody else. Therese, though, she was on Carol’s side - she had to be - and Carol found herself feeling abnormally open. 

“So what’s Genevieve doing that made you say yesterday that she’s still upset about your breakup? I mean, not that she shouldn’t be - ”

“Genny is… erratic. And hasn’t really left me alone in five months.” 

It was the calls, for starters, at 10pm and 11pm and midnight and later, and the texts. There was the time that they’d hung out in April that left Carol stuck in Genny’s Audi as she sobbed and pulled on Carol’s hand and begged her not to leave. She never wanted Genny to feel like that, to live like that, but she was running out of ways to help her. 

Carol could see Therese’s eyes widen even through the lenses of her sunglasses. “She sounds terrible.”

“She’s _not._ ” It came as almost a yell, harsh and defensive, and Carol felt bad when Therese pulled back a bit. “Sorry. I just have this strange need to defend her because, even though she sort of makes me miserable, I don’t want people to hate her. I ruined her life, I owe it to her to help her out. At least a little.”

It was starting to become harder and harder for Carol to figure out ways to help, though. Sometimes it felt like Genny lived in a warped version of reality, one where time wasn’t passing and Carol wasn’t moving on, one where she could have the same conversation (that was a forgiving word for whatever it was they’d have) with Carol a couple of times every week as if one day, Carol would suddenly change her mind, decide she didn’t want to move and that she wanted Genny back. The phone calls were exhausting and sometimes made Carol feel sick, but when she didn’t pick up, the phone kept ringing - twenty times, and then thirty - and she worried one day that the calls would stop altogether, for much more permanent reasons.

Used to going over these anxieties exclusively to herself, Carol was almost startled to hear Therese respond. “That’s harassment.”

Maybe so, but there wasn’t much Carol could do that would make it better. She kept quiet and let Therese continue talking. “Does she say things to you like you ‘abandoned her?’”

“Only every time we speak.”

“Is she really impulsive and makes bad - like, _bad_ \- decisions?”

That all depended on what could be considered “bad decisions.” Genny would call the newly-developed, low-grade alcoholism, chain-smoking, and almost getting fired “coping.” Because she was “having a hard time.” Because Carol “wrecked everything.”

Vaping and hiking was obviously counterintuitive, but Carol wasn’t the only person on the trail doing it. “Are you a psychologist now? Because I thought you were a graphic designer.” 

Therese laughed and it made Carol feel a little better. Just a little. She hadn’t been able to talk about or even _think_ about Genny without being overcome with panic in, well, five months. Five months and a whole lot more, really. 

“She just sounds like someone I knew.”

Arriving back to the bottom of the trail was as good a time as any to drop the topic altogether, so apropos of nothing, Carol asked, “do you have plans tonight?”

Carol was an easy sell, apparently, because even without an idea of what they could do with their night, Therese was on board. 

\------

An hour later, they were both showered and standing in Carol’s kitchen as she poured two glasses of wine. They’d made a pit stop on the way back from their hike, to the wine store by Carol’s house, and when she asked “red or white?” Therese said, “por que no los dos?” and Carol decided her and Therese would get along splendidly. 

Therese came prepared, too, and had a change of clothes in her bag. _Like a girl scout,_ Carol thought. But when Carol handed Therese her glass, she looked apologetic. “Can I borrow socks? I remembered everything except - ”

“Absolutely. Listen, I’m impressed you thought to bring anything. I’d have been stuck with the clothes I’d hiked in had the roles been reversed.” She followed Therese as she instructed her, “my room is this door to your left, dresser on your left, top right drawer.”

Before opening the drawer, Therese craned her neck and gazed around the room. It left Carol feeling a bit exposed, given her own career, but then validated because Therese smiled appreciatively. “You are _definitely_ an interior designer.”

The compliment was genuine, and Carol couldn’t tell if she was more proud than usual because it was coming from another person in the design world, or if she simply wanted Therese to think nice things about her. She wasn’t able to ponder for long, because Therese whipped around to face Carol where she sat waiting and sipping from her wine glass on her bed.

“These are not socks.” 

Maybe had Therese not been digging around so much and just chosen the first pair that she’d come across, she wouldn’t have encountered the only thing in the dresser that was, yes, distinctly not clothing. But it was too late, and Therese narrowed her eyes as she stretched taut a long, silky, thin strip of red polyester. 

In the grand scheme of things, it was vanilla. Very vanilla. But still embarrassing in the context of being found by her Brand New Friend. Plus, “that was not my idea, but somehow I was left in possession of them when I moved out.” Carol knew it wasn’t a full explanation, and Therese still looked on, waiting for more. “It’s, you know, for,” she crossed her wrists over her head, making sure not to spill any wine on her checkered duvet. 

Therese looked cute with her mouth open in shock, but Carol wondered why she was so surprised and when she asked, Therese just explained that Carol seemed so tame, and, despite an exterior of hardness, a little prim and proper. 

“ _Prim and proper?_ ” Feigning offense, Carol snatched the tie from Therese’s hand, tossed it back into her drawer, and grabbed a pair of socks. “Where’d you get that idea?”

“I’m _sorry._ I don’t know. Maybe it goes with the silver spoon, thing.”

Even though Therese wasn’t wrong - about either implication, really - Carol still revelled in any opportunity to cause some mild, harmless discomfort. She led them back to her living room where they sat on her rug next to her coffee table (the couch was fine, but Carol liked being able to lie back and spread out when she got kind of drunk - something she was certain was in the cards for the night). “And how’d you arrive at the conclusion that I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth? Last time I checked, Buffalo wasn’t known for being home to the elite.”

Poor Therese was almost as red as the wine in her glass, and Carol knew she had to relent soon. “RISD isn’t exactly cheap.”

Again, completely true. Though there were scholarships and students from a myriad of backgrounds, their shared alma matter was, by and large, populated with kids who were from very affluent families. Carol recalled many times that the apparent wealth of her classmates made Carol’s upper-middle-class upbringing seem downright poor. There was the question of just how Therese found herself at the same school. It turned out that, if someone happened to be living with their elderly, retired grandparents after the death of, essentially, their only parent, there was quite a bit of money the college could cough up to help out. Carol was glad to hear something good came out of the sky-high tuition. Other than a degree, of course. 

There were plenty of questions Carol had on the tip of her tongue, but none that seemed appropriate for the time and place. She’d done enough of that earlier and wasn’t thrilled about potentially heading down a similar road. Instead, Carol got up to find paper and a pen. She loved making lists, and what better excuse to do just that? After detouring to her kitchen to grab the bottle of wine, she sat back in her spot on the rug and began. 

“Okay, let's flesh out what we've decided. First, San Francisco - ”

“You’re really pretty.”

It rendered her momentarily incompetent and she stopped writing. Carol didn’t feel pretty. She hadn’t ever, especially in her current state - makeupless and perpetually exhausted. Coming from somebody that looked like Therese, with her big eyes and dimples and all-around youthful beauty, it was more than nice to hear. It didn’t save Carol from being downright awful at accepting compliments, though. 

“You’re drunk. I’m cutting you off.” 

She left it at that, with Therese laughing swatting at Carol while she poured both of them the rest of the bottle. Carol went back to the list and Therese had her own version working, a badly drawn map made better once Carol found her some color pencils she had lying around somewhere - in a far less suggestive drawer. They kept it up for the rest of the night until both bottles were gone and they were fairly certain they’d come up with the perfect plan for their roadtrip. It would take a few more days than Carol had imagined, even longer than the plan she’d imagined with Jack, but there wasn’t any hurry. 

“Okay, I should get an Uber. My car should be fine until tomorrow morning, right?”

Carol had forgotten that Therese had driven to her apartment and felt bad at the idea of her having to Uber back the next day just to pick up her car. 

“You can stay over. Seriously, my bed is really comfortable. My friends do it all the time when they get too drunk to drive home and sometimes I think they pretend to be, just because they love my bed.”

It was all the convincing Therese required, and she shrugged and said, “as long as you don’t mind,” before saying she’d just have to text her neighbor to ask him to feed her dog and walk him down the block in the morning. 

When they laid in Carol’s bed, Carol thought about how long it had been since one of her friends had stayed the night. Over a month, at least. Before meeting Genny, she’d lived with a roommate in Chicago for years, and hadn’t lived alone since she was at least twenty-five - Therese’s age. She’d felt liberated when she moved into her sublet, out of the suffocating confines of the condo her and Genny shared, but it quickly grew boring, spending nights on end not talking to anybody.

“Do you need me to set an alarm for anything?” Carol had a fairly reliable internal clock, but she thought she’d ask. To be considerate. 

“I have nowhere to be tomorrow. Do you?”

“At noon I’m supposed to go to Genny’s to get some stuff I left there.”

Even with her body turned away, Carol could see the slight wince on Therese’s face. “That sounds like a disaster waiting to happen.” It probably was. “Do you want me to come with you?”

Carol hadn’t actually considered bringing somebody with her. She’d put off going to Genny’s for weeks, the idea alone too stressful to think about. But maybe, just maybe, with a buffer there to help, especially a stranger to Genny, things wouldn’t result in a blowout. Surely Genny wouldn’t leave Carol completely unscathed, but she at least had some dignity remaining. It wasn’t the worst idea. 

“Actually, that would be great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Without sounding too ominous, I just want to add that this story might delve into some serious themes. Nothing our two central characters are struggling with, but I want to warn anybody who might be very sensitive to issues concerning mental health and the affects that come along with them. If I need to be more specific for anyone, let me know. But consider this a bit of a trigger warning.


	3. Los Angeles Pt. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Head Underwater” - Jenny Lewis

“So...how’d you two meet?”

They’d decided to take Therese’s car - she’d all but insisted - which was for the best, because Carol didn’t feel like she was in any state to drive. The route to Genny’s had her head against the window while she occasionally spat out directions to Therese. 

“Right on Hillhurst.” It had almost been Carol’s condo too. She’d forked over half of the money for the down payment. When Genny signed the closing documents, Carol had built a solid case for why she shouldn’t be included in the rest of the process, as well, and Genny was convinced without question. Carol wondered if Genny realized now that she’d had one foot out the door already. “Sorry. How’d we meet? Um, Tinder, believe it or not. We met on Tinder.”

“You should let Tinder know their algorithm is off.”

Carol laughed a little but couldn’t fight the need to defend. She wasn’t sure if it was a defense of Genny or a defense her own judgement at this point. “It’s not. We should’ve worked, Genny and me. We have so much in common, we never disagreed on much. The problem was the imbalance. She loved - _loves_ \- me so much and I was never at that point.”

With only a few blocks to go, Carol closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. Therese must’ve taken the hint, because she kept quiet, only asking Carol for necessary information to reach their destination.

Miraculously, there was a parking spot directly in front of the building. The one time Carol prayed for external forces to prolong the journey, it didn’t happen. And when Therese turned the engine off, Carol didn’t need to look over to know she was staring at her. Waiting. Maybe even with pity in her eyes. She didn’t blame Therese, Carol did look pretty fucking pitiful, clearly wanting to do anything besides enter the building to her immediate right, just outside the car door’s window. But stalling only worked for so long, and Therese was telling her - gently, softly - that Carol should get it over with. 

She still had a key to the front gate. Genny hadn’t ever asked for it back but she’d get it back by the end of Carol’s visit, whether she liked it or not. Carol didn’t want anything to tether her to Genny, or the condo, or Los Angeles as a whole, really. She checked behind her to make sure Therese was still in tow. Of course she was, closing the metal gate with care, clearly not one to let things slam shut. They walked up the flight of stairs and down the hallway. The sun that streamed down into the concrete corridor felt ten times hotter than it had in the car and Carol wondered if she would burn. To death, if she was lucky. 

“Here we are.” The door was heavy and white with a gold number nine hanging in the middle. Carol didn’t have a key this time. 

Therese narrowed her eyes. Carol could tell she was listening inside. “Is she playing - ”

She was. “The B-52s. ‘Dance This Mess Around.’” Probably from the record player that was rightfully Carol’s, and the record that was hers, too. Carol wouldn’t try for those, though. 

“She knows you’re coming, right?”

“Of course she does.” That was why she was playing Carol’s record on Carol’s record player, playing a song that was meant to be on-the-nose and scream itself at Carol. Genny loved to put on a show.

Curled fist, first with knuckles and then with the blunt side, Carol banged on the door until the music lowered. 

Genny looked happy - not really, though, but some pretend version of it - at first, and then she saw Therese. Therese meant Carol wasn’t staying long. Therese meant Carol wouldn’t put up with any last-ditch efforts. Therese meant Carol had new friends, ones Genny didn’t know, maybe new more-than-friends, because Genny didn’t know. And that was the way Carol wanted it to be. 

Without a word, Genny turned into the living room, leaving the door open for Carol and Therese to let themselves inside. The place smelled like cigarettes. It hadn’t when Carol had lived there. Genny turned back to Carol - glancing again at Therese, feigning disinterest, and then to Carol - and Carol only - said, “hi,” before launching into one half of a conversation.

There was a purpose for them being there, a very specific one. Get the rest of Carol’s shit, leave. But Carol instead stood with folded arms, waiting, as Genny wandered around the living room and kitchen giving updates on her life. Her publicist was mad at her, “she’s shitty to me though,” and Genny wanted to fire her, make another mountain out of a molehill like she always did, as far as Carol was concerned. She was doing reshoots for a film the next two weeks and then had to go to Savannah to film something else - something new that Carol hadn’t heard about, “because you haven’t asked.” But Carol’s patience ran thin - Therese probably felt _so weird_ \- and she wasn’t there to hang out. 

“Genny, I need to start getting my stuff. I think we’re parked illegally.”

“Hang on, babe - ”

 _Don’t call me babe_ was on the tip of Carol’s tongue, but she let it go. She’d requested the same in the past and it had only turned things sour. 

“ _Now_ , Genny.”

A shaky hand ran itself through Genny’s hair and she pursed her lips, looking ready for an argument or to cry. Or both, as luck would have it. An argument because Carol had brought someone with her, and now they couldn’t talk, “like really _talk,_ about us.” As if there was still an _us_ to talk about. Crying because Carol was taking the last of her things and she’d never have a reason to talk to Genny again and Carol had decided to end their relationship all on her own, “you didn’t even ask me first. It’s just what _you_ wanted. It’s always about you.”

The amount of times Carol had to explain - because she had to explain, because Genny didn’t understand - that that was, unfortunate as it was, usually how breakups worked, she’d lost count. But she did again, and started apologizing for something that no longer warranted apologies. Had it ever?

But she did apologize, and she meant it, too.

As always, Genny made her way to reprimanding Carol about her errs in their relationship, demanding that she admit what she “did wrong.” Genny always ended up here and it was always where Carol reached her breaking point, when she was done placating. It wasn’t that she thought she’d been without fault - quite the opposite - but the tactic was used for stalling. A way for Genny to hold Carol captive forever, because surely her list of missteps was never ending. It would be no different this time, she wouldn’t entertain Genny, and she motioned to Therese to follow her as she made her way into the bedroom, Genny yelling as she trailed behind.

The suitcase left in the closet was Carol’s, and she dragged it out and opened it, only interested in getting what could fit. She refused to make multiple trips back and forth to her car. 

“There’s a set of black and white checkered sheets and pillow cases in the linen closet just across from the bathroom - can you get those and bring them?” 

Therese was unbelievably helpful, all things considered, seemingly unshaken by everything going on. Carol filled the suitcase with a couple jackets, a dress she’d forgotten about, some books that she’d tried for months to have Genny drop off to her - she’d even offered to pay to have them mailed the mile and a half between their homes - and several framed pictures. There were a few wall hangings Therese would have to carry down, too big for the suitcase. 

Ignoring Genny while she went through every negative human emotion possible was difficult, but she’d been successful up until she reached the front door. 

“Is this the girl you’d been talking to before you broke up with me? The one you left me for?”

Carol didn’t think Genny knew about that. She didn’t want her to know. It was unnecessary - salt in the wound. She’d ended her relationship for herself, and another woman just happened to act as a catalyst. Something to give her reason to do what she should’ve done years before. 

But that was a mouthful to explain. “No, she’s not. She’s no one. Back off, Genny.”

“You’ve changed, Carol. You’re so horrible to me now.”

It still broke her heart to watch Genny cry, but she knew better than to go to her. Instead she just stood, trying to think of a way to say goodbye. 

Genny took care of that for her. She seethed and then composed herself enough to sound stern as she said, “if you walk out that door and never see me again - if something _happens_ to me, if I’m gone forever - will you even care?”

It was so easy to fall into, to be baited and say _of course,_ to make promises she didn’t want to make, and Carol almost relented, but it was Therese who stopped her. She muttered, “Jesus Christ,” and pushed Carol out the door and swung it closed so quickly it made the building shake. 

Carol was wrong. Therese did know how to slam a door shut.

As soon as they were safely in the confines of Therese’s car, Carol started crying. Mostly from exhaustion, it was hardly mid-afternoon and Carol already felt completely done for the day. Embarrassing as it was - barely stifling sobs in a relative strangers car - she couldn’t help it. Plus, she’d just made Therese witness _that,_ which was worlds more mortifying. 

“I’m _so_ sorry.”

Rubbing slow and soft circles on Carol’s shoulder, Therese hushed her and told her she’d done plenty of apologizing and not to waste more on herself.

“She still remind you of someone you know?”

“Oh, even more than before, yes.”

“I didn’t cheat on her.” Unsure as to why, Carol felt the need to clarify. “I just met someone and we - I didn’t cheat on her. I broke up with her first, before - I didn’t. Anyway, it didn’t matter. It was a nothing fling.”

“Okay.” Therese was sort of laughing, probably surprised at Carol’s sudden confession. But there was a bigger admittance, one that kept Carol up late, answering Genny’s texts and calls and being there for her even if she wasn’t _there._ One that could only be said quietly.

“I just don’t want Genny to kill herself.”

The circles on her arm stopped and Therese squeezed instead. 

“I…don’t think she’s going to. But if she ever did, it wouldn’t be your fault. It’s not your responsibility. How she was acting in there? She needs professional help - ”

“I’ve told her that for years. She’s always been so rash and bad at dealing with - ”

“Clearly. It’s way beyond your capability - ” Therese paused when Carol clicked her tongue, gaze still fixed out the window. “I don’t mean that you’re incapable, I just mean - ”

“I know what you mean.”

Nothing more had to be said and Therese turned the key in the ignition and quickly made her way down the street. The increasing distance between herself and Genny was supposed to be relieving for Carol, but she replayed the past hour over and over and eventually decided to text one of their mutual friends, asking her to call Genny at some point during the day. Once the message was sent, Carol tucked her phone into her purse at her feet closed her eyes. 

Therese turned on the radio. Carol listened as she scanned: something bad, commercial, awful radio show, Mexican music that people who didn’t speak Spanish always put on and didn’t realize they were listening to, another commercial, the Beach Boys. Therese must’ve stopped scanning because “Kokomo” still played after several seconds. Carol opened one eye, just to find the volume knob, and turned it up.

“I like this song.”

————

It was a wonder that Therese wasn’t annoyed, not frustrated or put off. Even after Carol had abruptly requested to be alone the rest of the day on Saturday. She wound up spending the remainder of the day packing - because _god_ did she need to start - and listening to that fucking Beach Boys song on repeat. She written and erased several texts to Therese - a thanks, an apology, a standing invite for her to come back and help Carol pack - but sent none.

Even on Sunday, as she actively looked for excuses to talk to Therese, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. But on Monday, _Therese_ messaged _her,_ about how she’d sold her car. On Tuesday, she demanded photographic evidence that Carol had indeed started packing. Carol tried to pile all of the boxes she’d taped shut into one area in an effort to appear to be further along. On Wednesday, Therese joked that she officially had rid herself of nearly all of her earthly possessions. At least, Carol assumed it was a joke. It was not. Therese sent her a picture of an empty-save-for-three-suitcases-and-a-dog apartment. But she hadn’t seen the picture until the next morning. Obviously had she opened it the night prior Carol would’ve told Therese to come over. She couldn’t let her sleep on her hardwood floor. 

They’d made the plan weeks ahead of time, her and Jack, for Carol to meet him at his office during lunch. It wasn’t particularly close to her own, but she was always eager to find an excuse to leave work for a bit. Jack’s building wasn’t the type that required signing-in, not like Carol’s, she just told the receptionist she was meeting Jack and found her way to his desk. It also wasn’t the type that had too many private offices, it was open and spacious with the occasional glass wall or two, mostly to create the illusion of structure. She scanned the room on her way to Jack. The trip wasn’t long. 

He sat, looking ridiculous with his long legs perched on his desk. It was, unsurprisingly, a mess. He grinned when he saw her. And shouted. “Look at you, sexy model. All dressed up for me?”

Carol looked around, making sure he hadn’t attracted too much attention that she didn’t want. “Shut up. I had a meeting this morning. Plus, I packed up over half of my wardrobe, I had to work with what I had.”

The first bit was a complete lie. She’d barely spoken to a single person that morning. The second part was kind of true. 

“And work you did. You should wear things like this more often.”

“No, I really shouldn’t.” 

It was mostly the pants that Jack was mooning over. They were tight and navy with thin red vertical stripes and zippers at the ankle. Carol usually only wore them for client meetings, her colleagues five-or-ten years her junior setting a decidedly more casual vibe when it came to everyday workwear. 

Jack picked at the fabric on the beltline, inspecting, before wrapping an arm around Carol’s waist to direct them out the back door. His office had a patio, and Jack wanted to order food to be delivered to save them the hassle of going out. He was a little annoyed when Carol only wanted a smoothie, but he’d known her long enough to know that she didn’t eat lunch. 

Leaving Jack would be rough. He’d been a constant throughout her entire stay in Los Angeles. Always around, always in Carol’s corner - he was one of the few people she’d genuinely miss. He talked during most of their lunch, about his sister and her husband and how he was doing. He’d gone on a date earlier in the week and was supposed to go on another.

“With the same guy?”

“I know - _shocker._ He hasn’t ghosted me yet, though, so I’m thinking that’s a good sign. But enough about me, what’s up with you? Ready to leave Saturday?”

“I am…” She was. Mentally. Physically, her thing, her precious belongings, might have told a different story. But that would be rectified that night and the following day. “There’s still some things to get together.”

“Well, I’m just glad things with Therese worked out so well.”

Carol drummed her fingernails across the table and smiled. “Oh, _yeah_. Me too. I love her; she’s the best.” 

And then she told Jack about their time with Genny and he was rightfully horrified. It wasn’t fun to recall, either. Carol had received sporadic, though minimal, texts from Genny since, mostly trying new angles, to seem like nothing had happened. Jack was about to agree - probably go on and on about how Genny was off and never seemed right with Carol - but his coworker poked her head outside to remind him of a meeting. It was goodbye. Jack looked on the verge of tears but he held himself together because, “this fucking meeting,” and it was probably better to get it over with. He hugged Carol tightly and told her to call him from the road as he darted back inside, back to his own life. 

The contemporary, open-concept office meant lots of scattered desks and egg-chairs and glass boardroom-sized tables and plenty of space for Carol to wander, take a look around. She found Therese almost instantly, perched at a communal desk, in a swivel chair, earbuds in as she clicked around on her computer. Her back was turned away from Carol, so Carol walked quietly behind her and then spun and half-sat on Therese’s desk. 

Tugging her headphones out, Therese beamed. “Oh my god! What are you doing here?”

“I was visiting Jack and thought I’d come say hi.”

Over several days, Carol had come to the conclusion that she liked Therese - maybe too much. And it was likely because she knew Therese was - for whatever reason - fascinated by her. Carol liked being liked, she was human. But she also liked when people she also liked - like Therese, specifically - liked her. 

“Well, I’m glad you did. What’s up? How’s your day?”

“Boring, other than making this trip. You know, I have a bone to pick with you.”

Therese’s face lost a little color and her eyes widened. “What’s wrong?”

“You _cannot_ sleep on your floor.”

It took a second to process, but Therese got it, and she laughed. “I’m not on my floor. Not really. I’m borrowing my neighbors air mattress.”

“That’s not much better. Just come stay with me for the next two nights. That way you won’t have to Uber to work tomorrow - I can drive you.”

There was a hesitation in Therese that annoyed Carol a little, frustrated her. She expected Therese to agree immediately, but she took pause. “It’s fine, really. I’d feel bad, I - ”

“Therese. Come on. You can…help me pack in exchange.”

“Well, you _do_ need to get your shit together. Literally.” 

It was the harsh truth, but Carol agreed, and then so did Therese. Because they had to leave the upcoming Saturday anyway. It was just _easier._

“Great. Then that settles that. I’ll come here and grab you around, what? Like, six tonight?”

Therese nodded and Carol made a move to leave - she had a job of her own, after all - but only ten or so feet away from Therese’s desk she was stopped. 

“Oh! Carol. Your outfit. It’s fantastic. You look _great.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m soooo sorry for the wait. I’ve been working nonstop and I’m trying to turn this job I don’t like into a career I dislike slightly less. Normal updating standards should return soon - after this wedding I’m in next weekend. Thanks for your patience and please remember how much I love and appreciate your comments. Every one of them.


	4. Los Angeles Pt. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Honey" - Torres

Unusual as it was, the sudden spitting rain brought a welcome cooling to the dry, dull heat of the past couple days. Carol and Therese had narrowly missed getting caught in it, managing to make to Therese’s apartment to grab the remainder of her things - dog included - walk said dog, and bring him back to Carol’s place before realizing how late it had gotten, and that if they wanted dinner, they’d better figure it out quickly. 

It was difficult, but Carol left Lenny behind. Therese had to drag her away - they’d chosen to _walk_ to Pine and Crane, and it was approaching 9pm - but could Carol be blamed? Lenny was splayed out on his oversized dog bed, giant jaw slightly open and tongue out, panting from too much exertion. Therese wasn’t lying when she said French bulldogs were the perfect apartment dogs: after about 30 minutes of what would more accurately be classified as a stroll around the neighborhood, Lenny looked close to death. Happy, but utterly exhausted. 

As soon as they sat down at a table next to the window after ordering, a the first few drops of rain hit the glass. It was hardly steady enough to be classified as a shower, barely a sprinkle. Closer to a person dipping their hand in water and flicking their fingers out, slow and jerky. They hadn’t said much since leaving Carol’s apartment, and Carol was grateful for it, but she also didn’t want to bore Therese. 

“Stop chewing your straw.” Therese reached across the table and tugged the straw from Carol’s iced green tea out from between her teeth. “It’s paper. It’s going to disintegrate.” 

Carol pulled it from her drink entirely. “Hot take: I hate paper straws. They’re gross. I’d rather do without.”

“Buy a metal one.”

An easy solution, of course, though Carol rarely accepted easy solutions. It wasn’t the best quality of hers. Not quite stubbornness, but the reluctance to uncomplicate, to believe that things didn’t always need to be difficult. It annoyed her mother more than anyone else. When Jack had told her he couldn’t come on the trip, Carol had almost decided to scrap moving altogether, not listening to the many alternative solutions proposed by her mom. When Jack found Therese, it was a relief for everyone, because it meant Carol was getting a version of what she’d wanted originally. 

“I should buy a metal one.” The song that was playing changed and Carol immediately recognized it, even over the loud chatter of the group beside her and Therese. “I love Dolly Parton.”

“When I was ten, my mom took me to see her.” Therese’s must’ve noticed Carol’s face light up, sensed her intrigue (and envy), because she elaborated. “It was when we lived in Harrisburg and I want to say we saw her in…Reading?”

Their food was placed in front of them while Therese talked, but Carol didn’t move to touch it. She was starving, but it didn’t matter. Therese remembered the funniest details - the kind that mattered then and probably were more important now, too. Her mom had given her a pink sparkly cowboy hat, “and I felt deeply uncool - I mean, I wasn’t _five,_ I was _ten_ \- but I wanted to make her happy so I wore it.” Therese drank a frozen cherry coke and didn’t know too many of the songs, “just the ones my mom listened to _over and over_ again in the car,” but her mom sang every word to every song. The night ended with her mom giving her a piggyback ride all the way back to the car, because Therese was tired from standing all night. 

“It’s one of my best memories of her.” 

_Of her._ The tag was interesting. And even though Therese looked lost in thought, almost far away as she focused on the window, Carol asked, “of her? Not in general?”

Therese pursed her lips and swallowed, and Carol could tell she was close to crying. “Making her happy was what made me happy.”

Carol wasn’t sure what to say, what to do, because she didn’t want to stop Therese from crying if that’s what she needed to do, but she felt insensitive just sitting there. She wanted to hug Therese, or grab her hand or put her arms around her neck and kiss her hair, but that might be too much. So she sat, and let herself feel uncomfortable, because it wasn’t about her, Carol realized. 

And she should’ve known Therese would recover so quickly. 

“Can we eat our food or what? They’re going to start thinking something’s wrong.” 

Probably, but they - the people working at the restaurant, other people dining, people waiting for a spot at which to sit - didn’t matter either. Still, Carol laughed and they fell upon a million and a half other topics - ones that didn’t produce tears - to fill the time. 

\-------

“What will you miss most about LA?”

The rain hadn’t stopped entirely for their walk back, but it wasn’t unbearable. Carol tousled her hair as she felt it dampening. “Nothing.”

“You’re horrible. I’m serious. There’s plenty of things.”

It had been hard to see the good lately. Carol was sure she didn’t have to explain to Therese as to why. But Therese was right, there were plenty of things to be missed. The myriad of outdoor offerings, the farmers markets that carried actual fucking amazing produce year-round, “Mulholland Drive.”

“Mulholland Drive? I’m assuming the road itself, not the movie. Because I _think_ you’re allowed to watch that outside of LA.”

Yes, the road itself. Though Carol did love the movie, too. Genny had never liked it and now Carol wondered why she’d ever agreed to go out on that date with Genny all those years ago in the first place.

Therese’s question, about what she’d miss, had brought them there - to the Mulholland Drive Overlook. Usually swarmed with cars, it was late enough that only two others were parked in the small lot. They’d parked, Lenny remained inside, sleeping in the backseat with all the windows down, and Carol had to nearly twist Therese’s arm to convince her that it was okay to sit on the hood of her car. 

“It just seems too nice to do that.”

But Carol truly didn’t care about her car. Sure, it was kind of nice, but she really just liked that it got her from point A to point B without worry. So she sat on the hood and waited for Therese to join her. The overlook had always been a spot Carol took friends or family who were in town to visit. There, or The Getty. It all depended on the time of day. Both provided an opportunity to view Los Angeles in almost its entirety. LA wasn’t like New York or Chicago where so much was _right there._ Looking up and around didn’t provide much scenery in LA, just a sea of rooftops and sky - or smog, and sky somewhere in the distance. 

Though unsure if there was much truth to it, the visibility certainly seemed better just after it rained. As if the pollution that hung in the air latched onto the falling raindrops, down into the drains, and straight into the ocean, left for another animal to deal with. 

Carol leaned back, only craning her neck slightly to keep her view of the golden hue that radiated from the car lights and streetlights. They glowed around Therese’s silhouette, illuminating her like the angel Gabriel in a renaissance painting - the high renaissance, of course, after painters had discovered the beauty of chiaroscuro. Therese whipped around to face Carol, seemingly surprised to see her laying, and smiled, looking all the more ethereal as she laid back to join her. 

“I don’t want to leave.”

“Stop.” Really, _stop,_ Carol thought.

“No, I mean this spot. I don’t want to leave here.”

That was better. “This is where you want to live? Right here? In the parking lot of the Mulholland Drive Overlook?” Carol raised an eyebrow and Therese nodded. “How will we eat?”

“I guarantee there’s, like, five avocado trees within a fifty foot radius.”

Gearing up to reveal another unpopular opinion, one that caused shame and ostritization, Carol closed her eyes. “I hate avocados.”

When she opened one eye - it was all she could stand in the moment - Therese looked shocked, delightedly shocked. And she laughed. “We really do need to get you out of Los Angeles, don’t we?”

That they did, but not right then, because Carol was enjoying the chilly breeze and the soothing sounds of a police helicopter above. She looked up and saw nothing, a sky that wasn’t dark enough for the time of night. Stars were something Carol hadn’t missed until she couldn’t find them anymore and she wondered what types of things she’d long for after leaving California, if she’d discover something during the trip back that she’d miss after she left. 

Carol wondered, too, if Therese knew she’d miss her mom like she did while her mom was still alive. 

“What was your mom like?”

Turning to face Therese, Carol hadn’t expected Therese to do the same, after she’d been asked something so exposing, but she did, and she held her gaze briefly and quietly until looking back up again. 

“She was my favorite person in the world.” The sentence didn’t end there. Therese left it hanging like there was more to be said, a _but_ that qualified the title. It took a minute or two of silence, but Therese found the rest. She told Carol that her mom scared her sometimes. Carol did her best to keep her expression neutral but she must’ve failed, because Therese quickly hurriedly provided more. She didn’t scare her physically, she never intimidated her, she just, “was a mixed bag. She wanted me to go out and make friends - to do things - but was mad when I did them, because I wasn’t with her. But when I’d choose to spend time with her, I was her best friend again. She always thought everyone was against her, though, if they said one little thing that she didn’t like. And I never wanted to be that person.”

Carol thought she couldn’t imagine, but the more Therese explained, the more she could. Not with her own mother - no, Carol’s mother was the most even-tempered person on the planet. Not much could rattle her, almost to a fault. But it didn’t take long for Carol to connect the dots. “When you said that Genny reminded you of someone, you meant your mom, didn’t you?”

With a little hesitation, Therese looked back to Carol. The police helicopter sounded louder as made its way closer, until it was almost right overhead and deafening, and then tapered off as more distance was put between them again. She didn’t have to, but Therese nodded, and then Carol felt like crying, but she wouldn’t. Not there, not with Therese. She had once already and that was enough. 

\-------

Selfishly, Carol had closed the topic of Therese’s mom for the rest of the evening, it suddenly hitting too close to home with relativity to Genny. They’d driven back to Carol’s apartment not long after. It wasn’t awkward, or at least Therese made sure it wasn’t by masterfully changing the subject (Carol got the sense it was a skill she practiced often). They worked together, but separately, mostly silently, for a while, listened to a news podcast while Carol packed her things with haste, down the wire, not caring if a few things broke (Therese reminded her multiple times that the movers would be there _tomorrow afternoon_ ). 

Carol sat in bed, setting an alarm on her phone while Therese stood at a mirror that leaned against the wall, tying her hair up. Not knowing why, Carol guessed that Therese looked more like her mother. She didn’t ask, obviously, and figured she’d find out eventually. Therese’s compliment from nights before had taken Carol aback so much because Therese was really pretty. Carol had noticed it when they’d first met and continued noticing it - she noticed it as she pretended to still set an alarm on her phone (because that was a task that took _so long_ ) while she secretly stared at Therese’s reflection in the mirror, hoping she wouldn’t notice. 

Being classically beautiful wasn’t exactly the trend at the moment, but Carol had never been one for trends - it was why she was so successful in her career and why she didn’t give girls with all the eyelash extensions and the face fillers a second look. Though attractive in their own right, simply not Carol’s type. Therese was, though. She had features that were both subtle and sharp and reminded Carol of herself while looking entirely different altogether. She wondered what they looked like next to one another, if they fit. She imagined they did as opposites often do: Carol, blonde and hopelessly pale - even her eyes lacked color - tired and getting older by the second; Therese, dark hair and moody eyes that spoke for her, with dimples that made gave her eternal youth. 

From where she sat, too, Carol could also admit that Therese was sexy. She barely wore anything to bed and had a killer body. But that was objective - Carol was just thinking objectively, it was hardly an opinion. She had been busy telling herself that and zoned out, probably looking odd as she gazed at Therese and Therese asked, “why are you staring at me?”

“Are you excited for your last day of work tomorrow?”

“Excited about it being my last day? Yes.” Therese spun around and slipped into bed next to Carol. “Excited about it being my last day and everyone knowing that? No.”

It made sense. Therese was likely too modest to enjoy that kind of attention. She wasn’t shy, per se, but she didn’t seem like someone who craved the contrived niceties she’d be showered with simply because she was leaving. Carol didn’t like that sort of thing, either, people coming out of the woodwork to make small talk because they felt like they had to. Luckily, Carol would escape most of that, given she wasn’t leaving the company, simply transferring locations. 

Carol switched off the light and didn’t remember falling asleep.

She knew when she woke up, though, that she hadn’t been asleep for long. 

It was Therese who woke her. “Carol,” Carol felt Therese squeezing her arm gently, scratching at the skin to try and coax her awake. “Carol, your phone is ringing.”

It was vibrating on her nightstand, and Carol was surprised Therese had heard it. Carol had become all but immune to any noise her phone made. It was why she set four different alarms on workdays. The phone stopped before she got to it, and when Carol looked at the screen, she understood why Therese had woken up. 

“I have twenty-four missed calls from Genny.”

Completely awake, Carol got out of bed and paced. She ran a hand through her hair and contemplated what to do, whether to call back, but she should’ve known it would be a matter of deciding whether to answer as the phone rang for a twenty-fifth time. 

“I don’t know what to do.”

Therese sat up and told Carol decline the call, turn her phone off, “we can use my phone as an alarm.”

It was the right answer, no doubt, but Carol didn’t know what was happening. Genny’s words from Saturday had been replaying in her mind at random times throughout the week and while her phone flashed Genny’s name for the twenty-sixth time, they were practically screaming at her. She declined the call, like Therese said, but didn’t shut off her phone. She texted Genny, instead. 

“I wouldn’t entertain her. Didn’t you say she does this all the time?”

“Therese, _stop._ I get it, I know. I’m being stupid. Just let me do this.” God, she sounded harsh. She instantly felt bad but Therese didn’t look like she wanted an apology. She was about to tell Therese that she just didn’t understand, but Carol wasn’t sure that was true either. 

_Genny, it’s 2am. I’m sleeping. What do you want?_

Sent back were a few indecipherable texts and Carol decided she had no choice but to call. Genny answered, but said nothing. 

“Genny, what the fuck?”

When Therese shook her head, apparently in disbelief either about the situation or Carol’s approach or probably both, Carol sat on the floor against the wall, willing herself to look away from Therese. Genny told Carol, “I don’t know where I am.”

It was all confusing, but it didn’t take long for Carol to determine that Genny was, unsurprisingly, drunk beyond words - almost literally - and Carol wondered how it had become her problem. Why it was her problem. She’d picked up the phone and made it such, maybe, but if she hadn’t, what would’ve happened? Carol decided she’d rather not consider the possibilities and talked through Genny sending her location to Carol.

Waking up one of their friends sucked, and Carol hated that she had to be the one to do it - be the one to call Alana at 2am and explain to her what was going on, make her drive to East Hollywood and pick up Genny and get her home, but someone had to. Even Alana apologized for Genny - she was more Genny’s friend than Carol’s - and took over once she got ahold of Genny. 

Sitting on her bedroom floor in the middle of the night after a series of frantic calls in front of Therese left Carol mortified. She wasn’t sure whether it was secondhand, for Genny, or because of herself and how she acted, how helpless and pathetic she probably looked, unable to handle tough situations. She continued to sit, knees bent and her face in her hands, knowing Therese was just staring. It was possible she wouldn’t have realized she was crying if Therese hadn’t come to her, placed her hands around her wrists and moved her hands away from her face. Her palms were wet but Therese still held them tightly in her own to help pull Carol up from the ground and move her back into her bed. 

The way opposites complimented one another rarely extended to one person being strong and resillient and the other crumpling into a ball on the floor. Carol decided she had no business positioning herself next to Therese. 

But Therese said, “you did the right thing.”

“You said I shouldn’t have answered.”

“If you hadn’t, you’d have stayed up all night. You did the right thing for you. That's more important.” Therese paused, and added, “let’s figure out what to do about this tomorrow, because she can’t make you live like this, Carol.”

Carol nodded and turned off the light. She wouldn’t sleep until Alana let her know everything was fine. It wasn’t fine, of course, but relatively. That Genny wasn’t lost again or dead on arrival. When Alana finally did text, over half an hour later, Carol had figured Therese was long asleep, but she felt Therese’s thumb rub the back of her hand and she murmured, “now sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short one, I know, and I'm sorry. These are broken up into specific events though, so some chapters will be short and others much longer. Thanks for waiting patiently (again) for an update (if you did, but maybe you're all gone). 
> 
> I always love your feedback, no matter how short or long. 
> 
> PS: They leave LA next chapter.


	5. San Francisco Pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Champagne Coast" - Blood Orange

It was easy to get swept away by the water. Swept away in thoughts, just looking at it, and otherwise. The waves midday weren’t as violent as, say, early morning, when surfers took advantage and sometimes got swept away themselves. Carol wasn’t quite as transfixed by the ocean, though. She’d never been completely enchanted by it. Instead she watched Therese gazing out. Therese gazing and craning her head slowly from one side to another in order to properly take it all in. Carol decided that watching somebody see the cliffs of the central California coast for the first time was just as captivating as the cliffs themselves. 

She didn’t want to seem like she was staring, so she walked along the gravel, stopped beside Therese, and looked out. They were just north of Big Sur, of the Bixby Bridge, and Carol had insisted on passing the first two pull-ins before parking. It was worth it. The rest of the cars had stopped further down the road and her and Therese didn’t have to share their spot with anybody else. Therese had said she was more interested in taking in the natural scenery than the bridge, anyway. 

Driving with Therese was comfortable. Therese was an excellent passenger, and Lenny was so quiet Carol had worried they’d left him back at her apartment. They’d driven through Malibu - past Cher’s house (“that’s Cher’s house.” “How do you know that’s Cher’s house?” “Everybody knows that’s Cher’s house.”) and Malibu Country Mart and a dozen shabby looking rehab centers and Therese started playing “Malibu” by Hole and they both sang along out the open windows. 

They hadn’t spent much time talking during the drive, except when they stopped to get gas in Santa Barbara. Therese told Carol that when she was fourteen, she started sneaking out of the house and skipping school and her mom would scream at her that she was going to “‘send you to live with your cousins in Santa Barbara,’ as if it was a threat. Look at this place. It would've been a _reward._ ” Therese didn’t have cousins in Santa Barbara, she said, and by that time most of their family had stopped speaking to her mother, anyway. “She was just really sick at the end.”

Carol made Therese turn the volume of the music down a little bit once they got further up the PCH, once it started hugging the wall of one cliff and the edge of another. The turns were sharp and required attention and Carol didn’t have plans for them to do any swan diving that day. The traffic they hit just south of Big Sur, near the entrances to all of the campsites, was a welcome relief. Therese must’ve noticed Carol’s white knuckles because she offered to drive. Carol declined, but it was a nice gesture. To no fault of Therese, she knew she’d be just as stressed out as a passenger as she was driving, and worse, she’d very likely make Therese anxious, too. 

Aside from their quick stop in Santa Barbara, enjoying the calm of the central coast before bookending one city with another was the only real time they wanted to spend out of the car.

“Can I take your picture?” Therese was looking at Carol. Her expression wasn’t one of hope but one that knew the answer she was going to receive, and planned to argue. 

“Absolutely not. Why?”

“C’mon. Because you look gorgeous and we’re _here._ Please? Just,” she pushed Carol gently with her hand to back her up and then scooped up Lenny, placing him in Carol’s arms. “Okay, now hold him like a toddler and sort of look over your shoulder. Look like you belong on ‘Big Little Lies.’” She took one photo, and then another, and another. “Stunning.”

“All right, we’re done. Lenny’s had enough.”

Lenny could’ve posed all day. He appeared to enjoy being held and coddled like a baby. But Carol had had enough. She usually recoiled at the sight of a camera and just happened to relent (rather easily) for Therese, something she quickly learned she’d regret, because before they even made it back into the car, before Carol could get Lenny settled on his quilted, cushy dog bed in the backseat, her phone pinged with a notification that Therese had tagged her in an Instagram photo. 

Planning to get mad enough for Therese to take the photo down, Carol started her sentence with, “what the fuck?” but trailed off as she opened the photo. It wasn’t bad. Carol might’ve even kind of liked it, in fact. Therese was a good photographer (Carol had known that already from the rest of Therese’s Instagram) and she made Carol look good. And there was the backdrop, too, absurdly blue water peppered with rocks of various sizes, the light and dark greens of the tree-covered hills. Carol liked how she looked, though, especially with Therese’s dog, held close like a prized possession. They looked a little like bratty residents of Beverly Hills. Carol ‘liked’ it and decided she’d ask Therese to send her the photo later, make her wait a little while before becoming too comfortable a documentarian. 

The closer they got to the Bay, the more congested things became, and with that came the reappearance of Carol’s agitation. It wasn’t road rage, per se, she wasn’t about to stop her car and start a fight, it was just general impatience that seeped its way into all aspects of Carol’s life. She was impatient with herself and the people around her, with her friends and her family, impatient when things weren’t going her way. When traffic grew worse around San Jose, Carol groaned and growled and swore under her breath. 

But then there was Therese.

“Hey, it’s okay. I mean, I want to get out of this car too now that we don’t have the ocean to look at but we aren’t in any real hurry.”

How could Carol possibly stay on edge when Therese drummed her fingers along her arm and smiled at her like she really believed any and everything would be okay? Not just the drive but the world beyond it. It was disarming without being practiced and she felt herself relax immediately. 

She let herself blindly follow the navigation as easily as she imagined she would blindly follow Therese because Therese lulled her out of the beginnings of her bad mood by telling her stories about bridges. Apparently, she was afraid of them and her best friend, Dannie, knew this, and saw to it to constantly find ways for Therese to face her fears. They’d gone on a trip to San Francisco together once and Therese was forced to walk along the Golden Gate Bridge. Back in New York, the city design brought constant turmoil. 

“You’re just, like, afraid of the bridge itself or…?”

“No, falling off of it, I guess. That’s why I didn’t care about getting up close and personal with the Bixby Bridge earlier.”

Carol wasn’t sure if it was truly the _bridge_ Therese feared. “Then you’re afraid of falling.”

“Right. But bridges just provide a lot of opportunity.” 

Through barriers and gates and beams, maybe, but Carol didn’t argue, and listened as Therese told her more stories of strange, mostly outgrown, fears of hers. Sirens, power lines, horses. It kept her distracted for almost the rest of the trip, until they reached the city itself, and then Therese knew to stop talking and just allow Carol to be frustrated. It must’ve been frustrating to watch somebody get so frustrated over the inevitable, Carol thought, but she still couldn’t help it. And when Therese put her hand on the back of Carol’s neck and squeezed, Carol was momentarily paralyzed. She wanted to smile, but couldn’t, or relax into the touch, but then Therese might stop, so Carol stayed perfectly still and silent for as long as she could and just kept driving. 

\-------

Nothing about the lobby of the hotel was unfamiliar to Carol. Not the jute rug beneath her feet, nor the European oak flooring under that. Not the modern open-end sofa to her right, not the sand-hued fireplace on the wall in front of it. The brass light fixtures were some of her favorites and she knew that the oversized, brightly colored abstract piece hanging behind the concierge desk looked even better up close. The concierge himself, however, Carol didn’t know, though he greeted her by name as she and Therese approached. He’d probably been instructed to do so. 

“Ms. Aird, welcome.” His tone was bright like his smile and Carol wondered if he realized most people checking in had spent at least part of their day travelling and likely weren’t in the mood to match his enthusiasm. Or maybe it was just her. 

She leaned against the desk and glanced at Therese - she was looking back and then up and then back again, at the floors, the art, the room as a whole - and Carol suddenly grew nervous. There wasn’t much she needed to do to check-in besides hand over a credit card, only for deposits, one for Lenny and the other for damages, just in case she trashed the place. Even then, she doubted they would charge her. 

“All right. You’re all set, Ms. Aird and Ms…”

Therese still wasn’t paying attention, so Carol answered for her. “Belivet. Therese Belivet.”

There she was. 

“Ms. Belivet. I made you each two keys, rooms 806 and 807. Ms. Aird, we’ve planned for you to stay in 806, but of course you’re welcome to switch. Can we help with your bags?”

Usually Carol loved being catered to, but for reasons she couldn’t quite identify, she declined and hoped Therese didn’t mind her speaking for the both of them. As they waited for the elevator, Therese found her voice. She was impressed - and Carol relieved - by the hotel, and claimed it was the nicest place she’s ever stayed. Judging from the lobby, of course, “though if the rooms are even a fraction as incredible…”

“I’m glad you approve.” It was an understatement of sorts.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened and then closed behind them once they were inside. Carol wanted to look over to Therese, but she had nothing to say and if Therese didn’t either then they’d just be staring at each other in a small, enclosed space. So she waited, and it was the first time Carol had felt silence with Therese was awkward. 

Therese broke it, and with the oddest of questions. “So, should I just, like, Venmo you for my half of - ”

As if Carol would ever let that happen. “Oh, god. Therese. No. First of all, as a general note: I foot the big bills on this trip. You can pick up some small things here and there, but overall,” they reached their floor and Carol led them to their rooms, continuing her explanation. “I pay for most of it.” Therese opened her mouth to speak but, “I’m not finished. Secondly, you especially don’t pay for - here, this is 807, here are your keys - you don’t pay for things in San Francisco because _this_ \- this hotel we’re staying in - costs me absolutely nothing.”

The two quick beeps, that universal noise of entry, sounded and Carol opened the door to her room. More familiarity. The light olive green L-shaped sofa that hugged the wall, the teak bed frame and headboard, the tan leather benches at the foot of the bed. Despite having her own room - the door ten feet away - Therese followed Carol into hers, not that Carol minded. 

“Why?”

Carol abandoned her suitcase and peered out of one of the large windows. The heavy burnt orange curtains had held perfectly. “Why what?”

“Why does this cost you nothing?” Therese poked around too, but for clues. There was a bottle of champagne and a card with Carol’s name propped up beside it. 

“Because, I designed the hotel.” 

It was the biggest job Carol had ever worked on. She hadn’t been the uppermost personnel on the project - that distinction had gone to her project manager - but she had been the lead designer, and therefore, the hotel had been her design. Her design with the help of many junior designers, not to be forgotten. Carol had agonized over which tiles would over the bathroom floors and walls, fought with their clients over paint color, and been tasked with ensuring that every single one of the 84 guest rooms were different from one another. She thought being just a little bit proud of herself was within her rights. 

Therese picked up a matchbook with hand drawn gemstones. “Did you have anything to do with the branding?”

“Nothing whatsoever.”

“Good, because I hate it.”

Carol couldn’t imagine Therese hating anything, or at least being so outspoken about it and the admission made her like Therese even more. 

“Give them your card on the way out. Maybe they want to make some changes, who knows?” 

As much as Carol wouldn’t have minded the rest of the night being only her and Therese, her friend Fred, was expecting her. _Them._ He’d surely come up with a million ideas for their night and the plans included Therese, no doubt, though Carol stressed that Therese was welcome to do whatever she wished with her night. Thankfully, Therese was on board for whatever Carol was going to do, and they agreed to be ready in an hour - after Therese walked Lenny and Carol changed her clothes six or seven times. 

\--------

“Sorry, I know you’ve mentioned it before, but who is Fred, exactly?”

Therese was just being nice. Carol _hadn’t_ mentioned it before.

“He’s one of my best friends from high school. One of the only people I’ve remained friends with over the years.”

The hoards of people cramming into lines, crowding the sidewalks as they walked down Powell was enough for Carol to take note that she absolutely did not want to walk back in the same direction. She never understood why people were so eager to ride a streetcar that took them essentially nowhere. Nowhere of note, anyway. Carol had become so cynical about San Francisco in the years since Fred had moved there, and it was maybe because he’d become so much less. She missed having someone to commiserate with. But sometimes Carol thought Fred just hid it well, under a mask of drinking and sex that Carol had never been able to fully keep up with. 

Abby just thought he was an alcoholic. She said most lawyers were. 

Maybe so, but he didn’t appear to be nearing a bottom anytime soon, and Carol hoped he wasn’t truly an alcoholic, otherwise he’d have a long road ahead of him. 

Any trace of Carol’s cynicism died instantly when Therese looked over at her as they walked in silence and smiled. It was completely and utterly heart-melting. Carol smiled too, but looked away.

“Thanks for walking. I know it’s long and not the most scenic route, but I just couldn’t be in a car anymore.”

“Don’t thank me, I prefer it. Where exactly are we going anyway? I know it’s in the Mission, but - ”

They were going someplace Fred picked, so it was definitely trendy, definitely expensive, and he’d definitely be picking up the tab. He always did nowadays, after spending years and years of undergrad and then law school leaning on his friends. 

Fred could be spotted from space. Even in San Francisco, in the Mission, amongst the gayest of gays and queerest of queers, he stood out. Carol couldn’t blame him - five days a week he performed some sort of buttoned-up, straight-laced alternate universe version of himself for clients and judges and juries. But on weekends, he transformed back into himself, back into the person Carol knew too well. He saw her before she saw him, and he stood with one arm pointing up and the other out, theatrical as ever, pink cat-eye glasses that were probably marketed toward women and red checkered pants that he’d rolled up above his ankles. He screamed Carol’s for half the neighborhood to hear. 

\--------

Correct in her assumption, the restaurant was trendy and pricey and before they even sat down, Fred said, “order everything, ladies, because I’m paying.”

Therese looked like she was going to attempt a protest, but Carol shook her head and said, “Fred can swing it. He’s been waiting for this. Just let him.”

Most of the dinner involved catching up - Fred going into as much detail as he could about cases he was working on and Therese just giving Fred a basic introduction to herself. Carol thought she’d dodged a bullet for once, until Fred leaned across the table, hand propping up his head so he could intensify his stare. “Okay, Carol, elephant in the room - what’s the latest with Genny?”

Carol took a sip of her wine. A minor stalling tactic that didn’t buy her enough time. “Well, Therese met her when we went to go get my stuff…”

“Stop. Therese, you made it out alive. You’re here to tell the story. I’m stunned. That couldn’t have gone well.”

“Oh,” Therese sighed, “it did _not._ ”

In an effort to get off of the topic as quickly as possible - she’d had barely had to think about Genevieve all day - Carol skipped over the horror story that Fred could easily imagine. “Anyway, Therese came up with the idea for me to tell Genny we couldn’t talk - like, no contact at all - for four months.” 

“Why four?”

“She’d never agree to longer.”

Obviously, it hadn’t gone down that smoothly. Genny had given Carol the run around, the what-ifs, the worst case scenarios. If the ever-cryptic threat of “something happening” to Genny did, in fact, happen, would Carol want to know? If Genny’s parents died, could she contact Carol? Eventually, Genny agreed, making a point to tell Carol that she was setting a reminder on her calendar of four months to the day. 

“And what do you think of all of this?” Fred was asking Therese, himself skeptical of Carol’s handling of the situation.

“I think,” Therese paused and Carol hung on her words. “I think Carol is an extremely caring person and I’ve never had an ex that was so patient with me. Not that I’ve ever been Genny, but still.”

In a welcome turn, Fred started grilling Therese about her exes, a topic Carol hadn’t yet broached. She’d been curious, of course. Mostly curious to how it was Therese was single. She was fun and smart and very attractive. Carol figured it was more of a choice than anything. 

But Therese told Fred stories about girls she’d dated who’d sort of tossed her and made her an afterthought and she’d always put up with it. She’d put up with her fair share of Gennys, too, though her versions were never bothered when they’d broken up. She had a type, she said. Never easy, never simple, that was her type.

Without knowing better, Fred joked, “mommy issues?”

But Therese just leaned into the discomfort, letting Fred bear the burden, instead, “maybe. She’s been dead for ten years, so… ”

“How’d she die?”

Carol was horrified, because every person on earth, Fred included, knew that was never appropriate to ask. Even Carol had wondered, but she wasn’t about to make Therese tell her. “What is wrong with you?”

“What? She said it was ten years ago. It’s not like it’s standard for - ”

“It’s okay.” Therese was mostly assuring Carol. “It’s fine. Really. She killed herself.”

And then Therese stared between Carol and Fred, back and forth. Carol was sure she looked ready to die herself, or cry or vomit. Fred was clearly stunned into silence, hopefully regretting his line of questioning. “Oh my god, sweetie, I’m _so_ sorry. That’s horrible. I’m sorry I made you talk about it. I’m a dick.”

“I told you, it’s fine. I’m fine. I had plenty of therapy. Too much, maybe.” Under her breath, Therese added, “maybe Genny can borrow some of that.” And it was the knife that was needed to cut the tension hanging between them, because Fred laughed and high-fived Therese, glad to still have her on his side. 

\--------

As good as the rest of the night had gone, Carol still found herself back in her hotel room, in a bad mood (with only herself to blame), alone - save for Lenny, laid out like a frog next to her on the hotel bed. Her and Therese’s earlier exchange of keys had come in handy for when Carol decided to leave the bar without telling Therese. She’d gone back, taken Lenny for a walk up and down the block, and then ushered him into her room instead of Therese’s. 

They’d gone to one bar and then another after dinner, making their way down Mission. The first had been fine, crowded enough that they all sat close on the back patio and Carol vaped while Fred chain smoked. When she bummed a cigarette from him, Therese said, “I thought you said you didn’t smoke,” and before Carol could respond, Fred interjected. “That’s a load of shit. Carol just doesn’t buy cigarettes, but if someone else has them, she’s suddenly a smoker.” There was more of Carol being the subject of their jokes, but it was to be expected, her being the link between Fred and Therese, and Therese didn’t seem put off by anything Fred was saying. 

The next bar Carol liked less. Fred showed no signs of stopping, but Carol abruptly decided she was getting “tired.” She’d driven all day. She watched Fred order yet another gin and tonic from the bartender, willing herself to not stare across the room at Therese, talking to some woman who’d come up to her twenty minutes earlier asking, “are you Therese Belivet?”

They had a mutual friend, apparently. 

Fred tried to order Carol a drink and she shook her head. “I’m slowing down. I’m exhausted, honestly. I might get going soon.”

“You’re such a liar.”

“What are you talking about?”

With a finger under Carol’s chin, Fred turned her head toward himself. He knew, whatever that meant. Carol wasn’t even sure what there was to know. She knew she was annoyed - with herself, with Fred, with the person talking to Therese. Not with Therese, though. Therese looked like she was having a good time and Carol didn’t want to impose. She deserved to have fun. So she left. She’d text Therese on her way back, letting her know. Therese was an adult. She didn’t need Carol to babysit her. 

Before she made it out of the bar, though, Fred told her, “you deserve nice things, too, Carol. Stop punishing yourself.”

She knew what he was talking about but pretended not to because it was easier that way.

That’s how she wound up laying on her side on her hotel bed, petting Lenny as he went in and out of sleep. She made sure to talk to him, too, like a real weirdo. It had been normal at first - _do you want to go for a walk? Want a treat? Here, let’s sit on my bed. Are you my best friend?_ \- and then he was suddenly her therapist, about the events of the night, specifically. She told him about Fred, about dinner, about Therese and questioned him, asking if he knew who it was Therese was talking to, until she finally said, “I really like her. I think I like her too much.”

Lenny snored in response.

Almost asleep herself - against her better judgement, she had yet to wash her face or change her clothes - Carol was jolted awake by a rapping at her door and then the chirp of it unlocking. 

“Therese?”

A stumble, a giggle, then, “hey, dog-napper. Why’d you leave?”

“I was tired. You were talking to your friend.”

“My friend? I don’t know her,” Therese sat on the floor and laughed some more as she took off her shoes. “I mean, I do. But I don’t care about her.”

And then Therese was on the bed, too, on her side facing Carol with Lenny between them. She scratched Lenny’s ears and neck and cooed into his side. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to ditch you.”

“It’s okay.” The mood shifted. Carol could feel it. She watched Therese continue to stroke down Lenny’s head and back. It went on for awhile, for five and then ten minutes. “My mom would’ve loved this - driving around the country like this. But I don’t think I would’ve wanted to go with her. Is that bad?”

“No.” 

Carol may have never had anyone as close to her as a parent pass away, but she knew there wasn’t one right way to grieve, or one right way to remember them. And Therese lying about how she felt about her mother didn’t help anybody. 

“I don’t think it’s just her, though.” Therese sniffed like she was almost crying. “I wouldn’t want to go on this trip with anyone besides you. You’re really great.” 

If Therese hadn’t been drunk, Carol would’ve kissed her. But if she hadn’t been drunk, she probably wouldn’t have said what she did, and Carol wouldn’t have felt the sudden and strong urge to do so. Instead, she reached across Lenny and put her hand on Therese’s cheek. “You are too.” 

She grazed her thumb over Therese’s cheekbone a couple of times and then put her hand back on top of Lenny, where it was safe, and waited until she could hear Therese’s breath even out before looking back at her, confirming she was asleep, and then Carol let herself fall asleep too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yiiiikes. Jesus, you guys, I am SOOO sorry for the wait. Like, I was busy? It won't be like this again? Do you all hate me??
> 
> I miss you all. I miss your comments/our chats.


	6. San Francisco Pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "So Insane" - Discovery

The oven timer wouldn’t turn off. Carol had pressed it and then hit it and tried nearly every button in sight, but it just kept going. And going. _And going._ She hadn’t even remembered turning it on in the first place. There was nothing cooking, not that she knew of. It just began blaring at some point and refused to stop. 

Lenny licking at her face woke Carol from her agony. The oven timer wasn’t an oven at all, but actually the alarm on her phone she’d forgotten to turn off. Of course it wasn’t an oven because she was still in a hotel in San Francisco with Therese asleep a foot away from her. She was stirring though, no doubt because of the irritating chirp coming from Carol’s phone, and Carol scrambled to turn it off - _off, for good, not snooze_ \- before it knocked Therese out of sleep completely. 

Eyes still closed, she mumbled, “what time is it?” and accepted Carol’s offer of a pillow to put under her head, turning her head into it, shielding her face from the light peeking through the window. 

“Too early, keep sleeping.”

Carol slid off the bed, closed the curtains as much as possible, and grabbed Lenny’s leash. He clearly wanted something, and Carol figured she’d walk him down the block first. He was spinning in circles and Therese said, “you don’t have to do that. I’ll get up. Let me - ”

To prevent Therese from sitting up, Carol slid a hand up her arm and onto her collarbone, pressing gently. “Don’t. I’ve got it.” 

Before she could move away, Therese caught her hand and held it tightly. “You’re the nicest person I’ve ever met.”

Her eyes were still shut and Carol figured she was probably still delirious from sleep. One of them was, at least. “I’m not that nice.”

Then Therese opened her eyes, suddenly and fully. And Carol nearly fell backward. She would’ve, possibly, if Therese hadn’t still been gripping her hand. “You are to me.”

Well. Because it was so easy. 

Therese let go and buried herself further into the pillow, seemingly poised to go right back to sleep. 

Sunglasses on, Carol took Lenny down the elevator and hustled through the hotel lobby, avoiding being pulled into mindless conversation with some otherwise well-meaning concierge. Like any city, San Francisco was still mostly quiet at 7am on a Sunday morning, an atheist lean especially to thank for the lack of excitement. Lenny just sort of looked up at her, expectant, and maybe he hadn’t wanted to go out at all. But they were already on the sidewalk and Carol made use of the alone time to make a call, ushering Lenny up the incline of Bush Street at as slow of a pace as she could manage. 

As usual, the phone didn’t even have the chance to ring before Abby answered. “Isn’t it seven in the morning there?” Abby never said ‘hello.’

“I’m a mother now, Abby. You don’t have a dog. You wouldn’t understand.”

Abby scoffed. “Excuse me? I have Morticia.”

“Cats aren’t the same. You could die and she’d probably survive for years, feasting off of your corpse.”

That might’ve been true, Abby agreed, but why was Carol caring for Therese’s dog? She said it with a sprinkling of suggestion and she didn’t exactly call Therese _“Therese,”_ but instead, _“Hot Roadtrip Girl,”_ a nickname Carol had mistakenly used once, right when she’d met Therese, that drove Abby to find pictures of Therese on Instagram and agree on the pseudonym. Despite the extra mouthful, “Hot Roadtrip Girl” seemed to roll off of Abby’s tongue with much more ease than “Therese.” Carol kept her rundown of the previous night brief, leaving out key components - ones she planned to expand on later in the conversation - and Abby seemed satisfied enough to move away from the topic, and ask about the trip on a greater scale. They discussed the drive and work and then Fred, which reminded Carol, “Abby, you’ll never guess what he did last night.”

“I’m sure I couldn’t. What happened?”

Even with the best intentions, Fred was famous for putting his foot in his mouth. Abby once said he’d deepthroat it if he could. It had been, for better or worse, a defining quality of his since high school, and probably before, too, Carol and Abby simply had known him that long. He was the reason their AP US History class (and, a half hour later, the entire school) found out Abby was a lesbian, the reason Carol’s parents knew Carol had thrown a party at their house one night the summer after their sophomore year of college, and the reason why “poor fucking Therese - just sitting there, going with the flow - has to tell us that her mom _killed herself.”_

“Holy shit. I’ll murder him. Was she okay?”

She was, which was almost more heartbreaking. Carol could only imagine how used to it Therese was, fielding invasive questions from people who didn’t deserve answers. She’d taken it in stride, although that was probably a facade, at least a little bit. 

“How was the rest of the night?”

That was the other Big Thing. The night had coasted along for Therese but for Carol, it wound up leaving her feeling miffed and ashamed for even feeling that way. She had no right. To feel jealous. Because that’s what it was: jealousy, plain and simple. She’d been jealous watching Therese talk to someone else, someone clearly interested in her. Someone who wasn’t too proud to put herself out there. 

Certain things she hadn’t felt for Genny - or maybe she just didn’t remember feeling them, because the feelings were so far gone - Carol was sure she felt for Therese. The excitement when she texted, the excitement when she read those texts over five or six times. The ease Therese brought to tasks that Carol would normally stress about. The desire to make Therese happy - on this trip and otherwise. And then there was that jealousy - it took over swiftly and completely and left Carol shocked and sad. 

“Plus,” Abby added, “you definitely wouldn’t mind having sex with her.”

No, Carol absolutely would not mind, “but do you think that’s a good idea? We’re just driving to New York and then going our separate ways forever.”

“Right. You both know that. You know not to make it something it isn’t. 

“I’m just supposed to sleep with her all over the country for a week and then just drop her off and be like, ‘bye?’”

There was a long pause before Abby finally said, “exactly. That sounds fucking great.”

On paper, sure, but Carol was still left feeling wary. She wouldn’t have to listen to Abby build a case any longer, though, because Lenny made his exhaustion apparent by laying down right on the sidewalk, unwilling to go on another step. She hung up and scooped him into her arms, carrying him back a half a block. The lobby was quiet and smelled like coffee, and Carol could’ve used some, but she figured she could wait. She could wait for Therese.

Angelic as she was most of the time, Therese looked particularly so as she slept. She’d shifted in the twenty or so minutes since Carol had been gone. She moved again when Lenny hopped up onto the bed and curled next to her, she turned and pet him a little, without really waking up. Was she a heavy sleeper or a light one? Heavy, because through all the commotion, she hadn’t bothered to wake up, but maybe light, because she seemed to register everything going on around her. In any case, it couldn’t have been a particularly good sleep.

It annoyed Carol that she was too anxious to fall back asleep once she’d woken up in the morning, but it was also a blessing in disguise. While Therese slept, Carol sat back against the headboard of the bed, laptop on her thighs, and answered a few emails. She needed to review some 3D renderings, make changes, approvals. It killed almost three hours. Every so often, she’d check on Therese, still fast asleep toward the bottom of the bed. 

She’d just finished an email to Tessie, asking for the details on an upcoming project, when she felt a hand squeeze her calf. Therese had woken up and made her presence extremely known. At least Carol was very aware of her, somehow more so than she already had been. Using Carol’s knee to anchor herself, Therese scooted upward and over until her face was buried into Carol’s side. Not caring to resist the urge, Carol let a hand brush over Therese’s hair. The gesture was more than friendly, or intimately friendly. It would’ve been something she’d do to Abby without thinking twice, and vice versa, to a person she definitely didn’t want to have sex with. Well, have sex with _again,_ anyway. 

“How did you sleep?”

Therese tilted her head so her face rested in Carol’s hand. “As good as someone who’s half-on, half-off of a bed can sleep.”

“I probably should’ve woken you up. Sorry.”

“ _You’re sorry?_ ” Jolting up, Therese groaned and gazed at the ceiling. “ _I’m sorry._ I can’t believe I fell asleep on your bed after, like, _crying_ about _my mom_ last night. That’s so fucking embarrassing, oh my - ”

“Stop. Therese, stop.” Carol grabbed her elbow and Therese did stop, and reluctantly looked at Carol. “After everything you’ve witnessed with me and Genny - I’ve cried how many times about that now? - I think you’ve earned this one and then some.”

Therese kept up her pained, pouty look, but dropped the topic. Instead, she checked the time and asked if they were still meeting up with Fred again that day. Carol had almost forgotten all about that. Fred _definitely_ wouldn’t be up before noon, and once he was up, he would _definitely_ want to drag Carol and Therese to some sort of endless brunch with his friends, picking up on where they had left off the night before, and leaving Carol exhausted and hungover by 9pm. She really hoped Fred hadn’t completely sold Therese on that idea already. 

Carol sighed and closed her laptop with the hand that wasn’t still holding Therese’s arm - because she was still holding Therese’s arm. She’d somehow moved from her elbow to her forearm and was dragging her pointer finger back and forth across the skin. Therese was staring down at it and Carol quickly stole her hand back. She sat up and jumped off the bed, hiding her face by packing her laptop back into her bag. 

“We don’t have to - ”

“Don’t feel like you have to cancel on my account,” Therese moved off the bed, too, and it startled Lenny. He shimmied onto the floor and panted and paced. “I mean, I don’t mind - ”

“I wouldn’t be. Cancelling on your account, that is.” Carol didn’t know if that came out mean, or harsh. She hadn’t meant for it to. If Therese had some strange desire to follow Fred all day again, Carol would go along with it. _That_ would have been her doing something for the sake of Therese. She just didn’t care about planning their day around Fred and didn’t get a strong sense that Therese wanted to, either. Carol would see Fred plenty later in the year, around the holidays and such, and probably sometime before that, too. He visited his parents in Buffalo often enough. As far as Carol was concerned, she had done her duty: visited Fred in San Francisco one last time before she moved. Check. “Don’t feel like you’re obligated to spend the day with me, either. I don’t want to hold you hostage.”

Well, she _did_ want to, but she certainly wouldn’t. 

“Oh, yeah,” Therese looked disappointed. “If you want to do your own thing, that’s - ”

“No. Therese. That’s not what I’m saying. I’d love to spend the day with you - that’s what I want to do, in fact. There’s absolutely nothing I’d prefer more.” Carol couldn’t remember a time when being so transparent had felt so nerve racking. “That was just me giving you an ‘out.’”

Thankfully, Therese smiled. And blushed. And rolled her eyes at herself. “Well, I don’t want an ‘out.’ I want to hang out with you. I was kind of hoping that’s how the day would go, honestly.”

They both told Lenny to “shut up” when he barked. There was a great deal of reward that came with transparency (for those who were lucky, at least) and Carol had forgotten about that side of vulnerability.

\--------

It wasn’t as if their day consisted of anything astonishing. If somebody had asked them what they’d done all day - one full day in San Francisco - Carol would probably come up incredibly short.

After giving herself a generous hour to get ready, Carol beckoned for Therese and swept her away from their hotel. She needed air. She needed coffee, too, and Therese looked ready to cry of happiness at the mention of it. They walked (strolled, more accurately - Therese wasn’t a fast walker) and sipped and ate bagels and Therese revealed her snobbery, “listen, if you ever lived in New York, you’d understand. You would.” 

There was Grace Cathedral around the corner, and they popped inside because it was between services and they both wanted to look at the labyrinths on the floor and the stained glass windows, but there was somebody praying loudly nearby the podium close to the altar. Carol scrunched her nose and whispered, “isn’t that a no-no, or something?” Therese shook her head, “I don’t know, but I hate it.” They left and kept walking. In Chinatown, they made their way in and out of shops, the ones that more or less sold the same things in different arrangements. When they reached the Kite Shop, Therese inspected a kite shaped like a butterfly and offered more to Carol. 

“My mom came from a really Catholic family. She was really Catholic too, which is weird, considering…” Therese paused and Carol filled in the blanks. Considering she killed herself. “Anyway, churches, religion, everything that comes with it - it all seems weird to me.”

“Lapsed Catholic, I take it?”

Carol liked the Therese that dove into the nitty-gritty. That wasn’t Carol’s nature herself, but she’d been forced to be that person - the person willing to share just about anything - in Therese’s presence enough. She’d hoped the tables would turn without needing to prompt Therese. When the time came, she didn’t plan to take a second for granted. She hung on Therese’s words. 

“‘Lapsed’ seems generous. I think I was born an atheist.” 

“Aren’t we all?”

Therese smiled, it was nice with hint of annoyance. “Yeah, _okay._ But, that ends pretty quickly. I sustained that mentality, even through a handful of years of Catholic school.”

Breaking eye contact _just_ when it would become too much, Carol looked down. She’d been toying with something in her hands for the better part of their conversation. It was a rubber magnet of maneki-neko. Carol bought it in order to have _something_ to remember the day by. 

Somehow, they wound up at the Wharf and over and up Divisadero. It was so long and steep, more so than either of them remembered, but they laughed each time the end of one block revealed the beginning of another, still uphill, one. It would be good practice for all of the hiking they’d talked about doing. Carol found herself listening more than she was used to. She was a talker. She surrounded herself with talkers and they all fought to get a word in with one another. But Carol didn’t think Therese was a talker and she relished the opportunity to get her to do so, collecting each bit of information like she’d be tested later.

She wanted to know more about the “good, obedient child,” Therese painted herself to have been, and also about the “horrendous” teenager she grew up to be, right before and then after her mom died. Carol wanted to add that it was to be expected, for someone to not be the easiest to deal with after that kind of loss, but she didn’t want to derail Therese and kept her mouth shut instead. Therese kept her closest friends back in New York, where she’d lived right after college. There were a few left behind in Los Angeles, but nobody notable. When the street started its decline, Therese brought up a couple of her exes. Carol folded her arms and bit her tongue and became secretly and silently incensed when Therese said, “I just thought she was really hot,” and she was lonely, she added, but Carol still prayed for her to change the subject. 

They got Thai food and watched the city _really_ start to wake up just before the sunset. Apropos of nothing, Carol blurted out, “do you miss any of them? Any of your exes? Like, do you ever wish - ”

Therese nearly spat. “ _No._ God, no. I think I was just really lost and alone up until pretty recently that I would’ve taken anybody.” She paused and tapped her plate with one chopstick before asking, “do you miss Genny?”

“You’re joking, right?” She wasn’t. “Genny is like a different person. Or maybe she’s the same, but I’m no longer on this pedestal for her and I can see what’s really going on. No, I don’t miss her. I’m just concerned for her.”

Maybe Therese was concerned too, or she knew what it felt like to be concerned, because she said, “I get that,” and they finished eating and walking back to the hotel mostly in silence. 

Standing outside of the door to Therese’s hotel room felt like dropping somebody off after a date. Though if Carol were to ever take somebody on a date like the day her and Therese had had - meandering aimlessly through San Francisco hours on end - she be apologizing profusely afterwards. Carol leaned against the wall as Therese dug through her purse for her key and Carol considered how easy it might be to kiss Therese, or to be blunt and crass and say something like Abby might, say something like, ‘do you want to have sex?’ Because Carol had a feeling Therese would say yes. But stopping Carol was the uncertainty of how good she’d feel about it, if it would even be fulfilling or if it would make her feel sad about its inevitable end.

Long found was her key, and Therese stood at her door, almost like she was waiting for something. 

Carol perked up. “Don’t worry about waking up early or anything tomorrow. We just have to check out by noon.” She turned on her heel and didn’t look back. “Goodnight, Therese.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear lord. I'm so sorry for how long this took. And because this is a short baby-transitional-chapter. I went on vacation and then worked a ton to make up for the vacation and now I'm doing this thing that requires a lot of studying and such. You're free to harass me for updates here, and also on my instagram, which is Laurareneeherb. I respond to both forms of "gentle reminders." That said, I hope this is enjoyable and you tell me about it. _And_ I don't plan on taking a long break like that again.


	7. Highways and Springdale, Utah

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The Party" - St. Vincent

Carol had been meticulously examining her fingernails for at least twenty minutes, by her estimation. Alternating between hands to use her thumb nails to scrape underneath the overgrown tips, she picked and picked until she gave up, deciding that there was nothing that she could do until she stopped driving. Usually very particular about her nails, for reasons both vulgar and simply indicative of her personality, she’d neglected them in the past week due to the chaos of everything. 

When she gripped the steering wheel again, she scared herself, realizing that she’d been driving with her knee and barely looking at the road ahead. She didn’t remember the past hour of driving, really. Highway hypnosis had set in and Therese was out cold in the passenger seat. 

There was absolutely nothing to see. Nothing but Mojave Desert which, Carol thought, was easy to get the gist of by looking at a picture, no need to spend real time in it. Though driving from San Francisco to Zion left them no other choice. After six hours, Carol’s patience was running thin. She’d gotten annoyed when Therese made her stop somewhere near Fresno so she could pee. ( _“I just passed all of these cars. Now I’m going to have to do it all over again.” “I’m sorry, Carol, that must be so embarrassing for you.”_ ) Once they’d gotten off the 5 and onto the 15, though, Carol could go ninety and not worry much about getting pulled over. 

Well, she could go ninety as long as Therese stayed asleep. If Therese woke up, she’d surely freak out - silently, but still - and give Carol sad eyes that would make her slow down. 

Carol glanced at the dash and thought about when to get gas. She considered calling her dad, just to tell him that she only had a quarter of a tank, it was over one hundred degrees outside, and the nearest place was called Xxyzx. At seventy years old, her dad still hadn’t one gray hair, but hearing that just might do the trick. She considered calling her sister, too, to tell her the same thing so they could laugh about it together, but calls with her sister were never brief and Carol knew she’d just wind up having to hear her talk in circles about her impending divorce - her attorney, _his_ attorney, her money, “what do I even do now? I’m thirty- _fucking_ -nine.” 

As if Carol had any clue. 

Mentally crossing off all of her options of People to Call When Bored, Carol felt bad for what she was about to do, but it was necessary. 

“Wake up!”

Not the nicest strategy, but effective. Therese woke up - slightly startled, a little disoriented - and quickly shut her eyes again, feeling around her lap for her sunglasses. 

“How long have I been sleeping?” 

Carol told her an hour-and-half...ish. It had been over two hours in reality, but she didn’t want Therese to feel bad. Yes, Lenny was fine. He’d barked in his sleep a bit, but otherwise nothing of note. Yes, they were, unfortunately, still in California. The inescapable state. 

The week prior, the night before Carol and Therese’s disastrous visit to Genny’s, they’d spent the evening making various arrangements for their trip. If they insisted on going to Zion, then they knew they’d had to find somewhere to stay _immediately._ Therese had been the one to stress that it would be the first week of June and absolutely crazy. Most things, she’d said, were probably fully booked. 

Obviously, camping was entirely out of the question. Carol had camped all of one time in her life, when she was nine years old and a Girl Scout. She’d cried every single night and refused to ever go to another Girl Scout meeting afterward, regardless of its proximity to nature.

“My mom wouldn’t let me be a Girl Scout,” Therese added. “She said all the troop leaders were lesbians.” 

They both laughed about that, because, little did Therese’s mom know - nor would she ever know - the joke was on her. 

“What about, like, fancy camping?” Therese asked.

“Glamping? Absolutely not. Still camping, just more expensive.”

Of course, though, everything was fully booked. Everywhere. They probably had been a year in advance. Carol whined and groaned at the possibility of having to stay in some shitty Airbnb while Therese played around on her laptop, trying different dates.

“Ohmigod. Carol. Someone must’ve literally _just_ cancelled something. Look.”

And like a moment of pure, undeserved serendipity, one single room suddenly presented itself to them that certainly hadn’t been there seconds before. It was likely the most expensive one possible, but it simply didn’t matter, because it was either there, or nowhere. Carol felt like she was having a heart attack. 

“Get my purse, get my purse.”

Therese did as told, and while Carol frantically typed in all of her information, asked, “are you sure about this? That’s really expensive. And we’ll have to drive from San Francisco in one day. That’s super long.”

Carol paused, stared at Therese, and then narrowed her eyes and scoffed before going back to what she was doing without a word. 

The drive _did_ feel very long, though, longer than Carol imagined a ten hour drive would feel, even only six hours through. Besides taking the scenic route between San Francisco and Los Angeles, Carol’s patience for car trips generally tapped out around five or six hours, always choosing a plane for anything longer (and often for even shorter distances, just because she could). 

With her head craned back, Therese checked on Lenny, petting him and whispering shit he didn’t understand. Carol was grateful for the drive this time.

They got gas, and Therese managed to convince Carol to let her drive. They hit some traffic around Las Vegas - the rush hour kind - and had to roll up the windows, the slow pace no longer providing adequate breeze to cool down the still air of the car. Therese had never been to Vegas, which shocked Carol. She’d gone Every year for Genny’s birthday for the past five years. Genny liked gambling, and she wasn’t bad at it, if that was at all possible. She’d lose money, but never too much, never as much as Carol and their friends. “Last year she actually won, like, four grand.”

Instead of asking questions like Therese normally did, she kept quiet. And then abruptly changed the subject.

About 45 minutes from their destination, Carol figured out why. 

“Hey, so, I got, like, a weird message on Instagram late last night,” Therese looked in the rearview mirror, merging onto Route 9 and obviously avoiding Carol’s waiting eyes. “It was from Genny.”

After Therese’s hesitation, Carol had all but expected it. She felt dizzy and sick and angry. “Saying _what?_ ”

Usual bullshit, of course. She knew Therese was with Carol, she wanted to know if something was going on between them, and if there was, she’d never forgive Therese for helping Carol ruin her life. “It doesn’t matter, obviously. I don’t care. I just wanted you to know.”

Carol closed her eyes and clenched her jaw, trying and failing to stop herself from getting mean. “And you waited the entire day to tell me because…?”

Confused, Therese explained that she considered not mentioning it at all. It wasn’t what Carol wanted to hear, though she wasn’t sure what answer she was looking for. She bit back, more and more and more, asking why Therese planned to not tell her, why that moment instead, how Genny even found her Instagram (the tagged photo Therese had taken of Carol around Big Sur, most likely). “I fucking _told_ you I didn’t want you to take that.”

“Jesus. I’m sorry! I’ll untag it.”

“The damage is fucking done, Therese. What did you say to her?”

“Nothing. I can block her if you want me to.”

“No. She’ll just find another one of my friends to harass. _Fuck._ ”

For the rest of the ride, they didn’t speak, and Carol felt defeated and increasingly stupid for how she’d acted. After checking-in, Carol changed her clothes into pajamas, not particularly hungry or in the mood to do anything, and left for the pool after Therese left to take Lenny on a walk down the street. 

Technically, the pool was closed. There was a sign Carol ignored at the entrance that made clear 9pm was the cut off time, but those hours were usually because of safety or an attempt to restrict noise to nearby rooms, neither of which was of any concern to Carol. She was alone and she knew how to swim. Plus, she didn’t actually plan on doing any swimming. She just wanted somewhere to sit and think and give Therese space away from her, too. If Carol could escape herself for a few hours, she’d certainly do it, so she figured, why not give Therese the opportunity?

About to sit at the edge and put her feet in the water, Carol spotted an inflatable pool lounge chair lying out on the opposite side. It was either left behind by some forgetful guest or provided by the hotel itself, but regardless, Carol decided to lay claim. Climbing aboard and remaining dry wasn’t the most graceful of tasks, but Carol managed and was soon drifting to the middle of the pool, gazing up into nothing. 

Not nothing. There were stars. It had only just gotten dark, but there were still more stars visible than Carol had seen in a _long_ time. She decided she’d have herself and Therese look up one of those “dark skies” areas that might fall within a reasonable distance of their planned driving route. That could be fun. Or maybe a pain. She’d gage Therese’s interest. 

Therese did seem pretty interested in most things Carol had to offer, though. Not in an overly-agreeable way; she wasn’t disingenuous. She was simply very curious. Inquisitive and observant. Therese was a lot of things and didn’t deserve the coldness Carol sometimes couldn’t stop herself from giving. Carol closed her eyes but the stars remained visible. She decided that she needed to try and be more patient. 

The metal door to the pool creaked open - a hesitation likely brought about by the sign indicating its hours - but opened wider and closed again. Carol already had a feeling she knew who it was, but she still opened her eyes to confirm. It was, of course, Therese. She hadn’t told Therese where she was, but Therese still found her. There weren’t many places to go, sure, but Carol was still impressed. She’d explicitly told her that she’d never used the pool in her apartment building.

Running the risk of sounding harsh (again), Carol still said, “pool closed at 9pm.”

She didn’t stop walking, just shuffled closer to the water, “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Slipping off her sandals, Therese put her feet in the water. Carol stared at her from the safety of her floaty that was now slowly taking her further away from Therese. 

“Don’t get up,” Carol said, noticing she was about to walk around to get closer to her. “I’ll come to you.” 

Using her right foot, Carol pushed back from the pool wall and glided back toward Therese. Holding on to the raised headrest of the lounge chair, Therese kept Carol in place at her feet. She looked down at her and smiled weakly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t - ”

“Oh god, shut _up._ ” It hadn’t been what Carol wanted to say, she did just need Therese to, well, _shut up._ “I mean, do not apologize. Seriously. I’m the one who’s sorry. I overreacted. You were right, there wasn’t a good time to tell me. I would’ve been upset no matter what. It wasn’t your fault. I was mad at Genny but she wasn’t there and you were. It’s something I need to work on.” Carol reached up and ran her fingers over the back of Therese’s hand. “Seriously, I’m sorry.”

They sat like that - just staring - for what felt like several minutes, and then Therese said, “stay still.”

Carol thought something great was about to happen until Therese’s gaze slowly shifted above her eyes, closer to her hair. It was a moving gaze, too, and seemed to follow something.

Panicked, Carol asked, “oh my god, _what?_ ”

“Nothing,” then Therese was lifting her hand to touch Carol’s head, “it’s just a little spider - it’s in - ”

Whatever Therese had to say next, Carol didn’t want to hear. Without thinking, she moved to jump up and away, forgetting she was, of course, sitting on a lounge chair in the pool. The shock of the water swiftly reminded her, though. 

Carol wondered how else she could embarrass herself before the day was over. She’d had a mini freak-out at Therese, revealed her childish fear of spiders, and stupidly launched herself into a pool wearing nothing but the thinnest t-shirt possible and shorts that were short enough to qualify as underwear. 

Not quite ready to show her face, Carol swam underwater, away from Therese, for as long as she could hold her breath. Why, she wasn’t sure. It’s not like it would make her plunge suddenly look purposeful. And it turned out that, without taking a deep inhale in preparation, the amount of time Carol could remain submerged was minimal. 

Out of sheer necessity, she came back up. Therese was standing by then, waiting with a look that was equal parts amused and concerned, hands trying to hide a mouth stuck between a laugh and agape in horror. 

“I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

Realizing the water was shallow enough for her to stand, Carol tilted her head back, closed her eyes, and sighed. “I am. I think I lost the last shred of my dignity somewhere at the bottom of the pool, however.”

“Oh, no, you actually left that back at the room.”

Carol laughed. Therese making fun of her was a good indication that she truly was forgiven, not just told so in a feeble attempt at eliminating awkwardness. 

“You’re not going to want it though,” Therese added, and then wiggled her fingers and widened her eyes, “it’s covered in spiders.”

When Carol laughed harder, Therese looked more than satisfied with herself. Carol made no attempt to leave the pool immediately; Therese even looked cold and she was _dry_. She just stood, most of her body comfortable thanks to the warm water, and remembered a similarly embarrassing moment in her life. 

“So, one summer, when I was in college, I worked as a shot girl at this pool in Miami,” Carol started and Therese sat down again, probably sensing a story coming, and Carol waded closer to the ledge where her legs hung. “My friend’s boyfriend lived there so we stayed with him and spent the summer passing out shots and drinks while wearing glorified bikinis. It was mostly easy and we made a lot of money. The downside was all of the drunk, disgusting dudes, obviously. We knew that signing up, though. But guys seemed to think that as long as it’s not your ass, it’s okay to touch.”

“Ew.”

“Yeah, ew. Anyway, one day, there was this guy who was super wasted. I wouldn’t serve him anymore, which of course pissed him off, so he decided to _push me in the pool_ while I carried a tray of shots. He was kicked out and banned forever, thank god. But now, every time I think something embarrassing is happening to me, I remember being in that stupid pool, all of those little, empty, plastic shot glasses floating all around me, everyone looking horrified and staring, but doing nothing, and remember that there’s no way I could ever feel more humiliated than I did then.”

Carol folded her arms on the cement next to Therese’s thighs and rested her chin. The drops of water still continuing down her face were tinted grey, the remainder of Carol’s mascara being washed away. 

Therese asked if thinking about that story helped. 

“Of course it doesn’t,” Carol pulled herself up and out of the water and sat next to Therese. “All it does is make me think less about whatever bad thing is happening and instead drag up other, extremely shitty feelings from my past.”

“You need therapy,” Therese said, and Carol couldn’t tell if she was joking or not, but she was right, regardless. “And a towel. And a shower, probably, because I know that’s not entirely your natural hair color.”

While doing her best to wring the water out of her hair, Carol caught Therese staring at her. She didn’t blame her. Carol would be the one staring if the situation were reversed. It made her feel good, too, when Therese noticed that Carol had noticed, and, instead of shrugging like she could’ve done had she been looking just out of curiosity, she blushed and looked away. They were quiet leaving the pool and in the hall and in the elevator too. Carol crossed her arms, both in an attempt to cover up and because she was fucking freezing. When some strands of her hair fell in front of her face, Therese beat Carol to them and tucked them behind her ear for her. 

It was the almost-perfect moment ruined by the elevator doors opening, revealing a middle-aged Midwest-ish looking couple on the other side. 

Once back in their room, Carol watched as Therese sat on the bed - the one bed - and kicked off her sandals and flopped onto her back like she had two nights before. 

“I’m going to hop in the shower, unless you - ”

“No, that’s fine. I showered in the morning.”

Sopping wet clothes peeled off and hung on the back of the bathroom door, Carol rinsed the chlorine from her hair - no color damage spotted, thankfully - and secretly hoped that once she was done showering, Therese would already be long asleep. They’d slept in the same bed many nights before, but something felt different, and whatever it was, Carol didn’t have the energy to face it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol, like I said, super quick wait, right?


End file.
